“Elgin,” called the mother pachyderm over her shoulder, not moving from the counter. No response. She leaned back and aimed her voice at the living room. “Elgin!”
“What?” came the surly male voice.
“Get in here!” No response. With a huff, the mother, Pauline, shook the water off her forelimbs and moved to the living room door. She trumpeted.
Just then, the figure of her teenage son rounded the door frame. He flinched back from her trumpeting and tugged at his broad ears with his forelimbs.
“Geez!” complained Elgin, “no need to trumpet! I was coming!”
“Well, next time you might want to use your words like a polite member of the herd,” scolded Pauline. Returning to her preparations, she pointed at the counter. “Now put out the utensils and a couple of holders for the hot dishes.”
“Aw, mom, whatever,” groused Elgin, poking distastefully at the forks and spoons she had pulled out.
“Excuse me?” asked Pauline, planting forelimbs solidly on her hips and glaring at the young male.
“Elephants never set,” whined Elgin in response.
“Oh really? You think you can back up that ridiculous saying in my house?”
“I don’t know,” Elgin shuffled his feet. “Uncle Parker says it all the time when I’m over there.”
“Ha! Well, then you tell your shiftless, lazy uncle to come help you now,” she said, turning back to finishing the meal. “Or else you’ll both find out the one about elephants never getting dinner!”
