The Rhino and the Pelican meet outside a chic pastry shop on the lower West Side of Manhattan. The pelican spent all morning tying and retying the bowtie he was beyond anxious to meet Rhino. She was a woman of exotic locations, rich foods and chic people. Metropolitan. Pelican had spent some time in the city, but he was never known for being from a rural town, a small population. He and his family would travel to the same place every year. Back and forth, never deterring from a path of normalcy. Finally, here in the big city he was free. He saw so many glorious sights. The giraffes walking through the fashion district, the eagles in the business district, in their ill fitted suits and their square toed shoes. Down to the highline where tourists would crowd to look at the locals. Penguins walking so slow with their digital cameras and their uggs. You would think they would understand about the soaking water on that fake suede.
Being here in the city made Pelican glad he had met his friends, Badger, and Coon. They all with their eclectic tasks, their tweed jackets their beat up sneakers. They’d all walk the streets getting inspired by the sights and sounds. Occasionally Pelican would take them back out to the country, show them the spots where he grew up, the migration patterns of his parents. They would drink rich drinks, and have rich discussions.
Occasionally, like all generations They’d question their existence, their future. The dangers they had. They started reading Sartre, and Marx, Socrates, they questioned religion. Went to the park and took pictures of all the people. That’s where he’d met Rhino. She’d been wearing a pair of shiny shimmery flats and a bow. In that moment he was dazzled by her interest in the things around her. She’d heard them discussing Simone de Beauvoir and his stand on the mysteries of femininity. She had stopped and joined in, and he’d asked her out, wondering perhaps if she’s like to go out.
He was nervous but perhaps everything would work out.