About five years ago, when I was vacationing in Africa, I spent a week with the Muhalabee tribe. They were a primitive people, fashioning most of their weapons from the dung of water buffalos. Since water buffalos did not exist in Africa and were pretty much extinct, the Muhalabees took very good care of the weapons they had. I found this to be rather strange, but I did not question their ways. After all, I was a guest of the tribe and I had to respect their traditions.
One tradition they insisted I take part in was the drinking of the tribal chief’s urine. Now, I know that may sound disgusting, but it really wasn’t that bad. It’s not like he just pisses into a cup. They serve it chilled in a glass pitcher, with just a hint of lime. I asked them where they found such a lovely pitcher, and they replied “crateandbarrel.com,” after which I questioned how they kept the urine so cold, and they replied, “Just shut the fuck up and drink the fucking pee.” Well, that’s about as best as I could translate it for you.
So I guzzled down the urine and they all cheered, and then they quickly poured me another glass, and then another. And that’s when I noticed that nobody else in the tribe was drinking the piss. They were devouring odd looking fruits and gnawing on the roasted meat of a poo-slain zebra.
I asked the chief why the other members of the tribe were not drinking the urine, and he told me that it was an honor given only to a privileged few. So I guzzled down another glass and they cheered again.
Well, I guess I got caught up in the moment. Because before I knew it, I had consumed the entire pitcher of liquid waste. Only this time the tribe didn’t cheer. They laughed. And I mean they really laughed. They just pointed at me and laughed. I asked the chief what the fuck was going on and he finally let me in on joke:
Turns out, the Muhalabees are notorious practical jokers. The liquid I drank was not the tribal chief’s urine at all. It was the urine of a baby elephant: a true delicacy. Those crazy guys. They sure had me going. Anyway, after I vomited violently for close to two hours, we laughed and danced into the night. Those Muhalabees. They’ve got a pretty fucked up sense of humor, but they sure know how to party.
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