“The Plight of Pesky Pachyderms,” by Jerome Wuthers

Apr 6th, 2022 | By | Category: Fake Nonfiction, Prose

Last night I saw HIM again. No, not Jesus. (If only it was, maybe HE’D save me.) It was the elephant man. He was slinking down the hallway, in that mysterious little way he likes. He crawls on all fours, balancing on the tips of his fingers and the balls of his feet. His shoulders dip back and forth, back and forth, as if dancing to some awful song that only sick creatures like them can hear.

Now when I say “elephant man”, I know exactly what you’re thinking, you’re thinking of a man with an unfortunate condition who has a tumor rapidly growing across his face- that’s NOT who I am talking about. He is a HUMAN BEING with real life altering condition, what I am talking about is a man with the head of a LITERAL elephant living in my house.

Great, now I’m starting to sound crazy again. I’ll start from the beginning.

When I was seven was the first time I saw him. It was getting closer to my bedtime, so my mum had me take a shower. When I got out, I reached for my favorite Bob the Builder PJs but they weren’t there. I figured my older brother took them after beating him Go Fish, so wrapped a towel around my waist and headed down the corridor. To my surprise, I found my PJ bottom crumpled in a wad at the end of the corridor, just before the corner. I reached out to grab it, but before my fingers touched it a little hand shot out and grabbed it first! I screamed and fell on my butt and I heard the padded thumps of little feet running down the corridor away from the corner. I charged after the owner of the hand that took my Pajamas with the greatest war cry a seven year old can muster, but I only caught a glimpse of him- two grey floppy ears, and a sinister smile forming under a little trunk somehow phased right through the walls of my home.

Fast forward to two weeks ago, I found a little hole in the drywall. I heard shuffling behind it and what like muffled elephant noises (as muffled as elephants can be). I pointed my phone’s light down the hole and roared, “I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!”

For a few moments, all was silent, until I heard a whisper hiss through the black, “You know WE’RE in here” they corrected.

Suddenly I felt small. I looked up and around me at the ceilings and walls. I was surrounded by strangers in my own home and I had no idea why they were there or what they intended with me. Since then, they’ve gotten bolder. They’ve stolen my socks, my keys, and maybe my girlfriend (She might just be ghosting me though). But anyways, they’re evil and this needs to stop.

I’m not sure this is the type of thing you would call the police for- I don’t think they would even believe me. I told my pet griffin the other night, and he just looked at me like I was crazy! We flew all the way to Tatooine last Thursday to look for a wizard who could help me get rid of these pesky pachyderms, but when we got to the house, the wizard’s daughter ended up calling the cops. Now we’re trying to recruit people we meet in the street to fight in our army against them. Anyways, I gotta go! There’s people I need to recruit. I would try to tell you more, but anything else would be irrelephant.


Jerome Wuthers is a writer of fiction–fiction!–and has not, under any circumstances, seen an elephant man.

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