Twenty-Something (In Human Years)

Paulina: What is an anteater’s fast food?

Ariel: battery

At twenty-something (in human years), I Can no longer eat five thousand ants Without a commensurate amount a time, Jogging in anteater sweat pants.

“Oh don’t worry,” they say, “You’ll find you are Hugely passionate for it one day! It releases endorphins that are at least on par With a honeypot soufflé.“

“It recharges your battery, removes all your fears, Makes the girl anteaters’ hearts pang! Adds years to your life,“ Yeah. Human years. So I have to multiply that by twenty-six and divide by eighty. Dang.