The Eighth Page

My Night on the Serengelbi: A Place Where Both Water And Life Abound

I had just traversed the great plain when I came across a wavering, shining oasis. Or so I thought. In actuality, I had come across what a reliable online encyclopedia explains, “hosts the largest terrestrial mammal migration in the world, which is one of the 10 natural travel wonders of the world.”

Well, if only I had known that! I might not have decided to stop off at the swaying, sparkling, colorful building for some water. What a naive decision that was, indeed!

As I entered the building, I noticed something strange was in store. Something very strange indeed…

I climbed the stairs and got a pit in the middle of my stomach. I knew then and there that I had entered some sort of makeshift ecological experiment. A rainforest had been transplanted into the Serengelbi. The humidity levels were higher than any recorded Amazon perspiration percentage. There was no liquid water, only water vapor, beading every inch of this bizarre glass oasis, save for areas where the adolescent male Phillipianus studentus had outlined a crude representation of his genus’ genitalia. My thirst wouldn’t last much longer.

I reached the second floor and discovered that I had arrived at the peak of the migration season, just before 22 hours. A lek, or, “a gathering of males…for the purposes of competitive mating display,” was in full swing, with a Senior Phillipianus studentus male beating his chest and soulfully crying out in tongues in the middle of a pulsing circle.

He hopped and pumped his fist so admirably, and it was clear why he was the leader of the lek. I could not understand his actions, but his rhythmic rage was somehow unfathomably attractive (so sorry, honey, but it’s true).

None of his comrades had the animalistic magnetism he had, nor the vertical trajectory. Luckily, his asinine dancing made me salivate so much that I didn’t need water anymore, which was fortuitous, because none was in sight. He, or Neon-Yellow-Muscle-Shirt, is so kind and generous. [sigh.]

Anyway, at about 23 hours, the Phillipianus studentus population had dwindled to 30 perecent from what it was at 22 hours. The Phillipianus studentii were coupling off, flocking to nearby cars, dorms, building lobbies and Druid circles.

Some went to the nearby cemetery and paid homage to their ancestors. Such dedicated Phillipianus studentii honoring studentii and their traditions on such a cold winter’s night! Those young people, I tell you. They’re so admirable. Keep it up.

The annual Serengelbi affair is critical to the Phillipianus studentus branch of the animal kingdom. The species would surely go extinct without the Serengelbi, the indisputable main night of the year!