Emile looked out at the stars and the other glinting lights in the distance. Or as much as he could past his larger than usual snout. With a heavy and tired huff, he shifted position in his chair, feeling the arms digging into his sides as they pushed his tight shirt up. Again he moved in his seat, trying to cover up the cold stripe of his exposed skin. He liked it better when he had his short and thick coat of charcoal fur.

He had not planned on being a hippopotamus today, or ever. When he looked forward that big snout hippos were gifted with blocked the lower part of his field of view, and when looking down, he saw the form that was weighing down his body so heavily. His little stubby arms rested out along his broad barrel shaped form, barely contained by his striped shirt. His torso and gut blocked the view of his little legs that muffin topped out above his boots. The stripes were doing no justice for his figure, which was easily filling out Alma’s chair.

With a grunt, Emile rocked forward, remembering he had some cigarettes in his back pocket. He didn’t manage to get up immediately, instead he just groaned and rocked forward, extending his arms and legs out in an attempt to get some momentum. After a few fails, the already winded hippo got his feet on the floor with a thundering thoom that rocked the deck. His squat body rocked back and forth a moment before he settled, though that tight feeling of the chair remained. Nervously he looked back and cursed in his mind as he saw that his rump had wedged itself firmly between the arms of the chair. Very carefully, he grabbed the arms and started forcing the chair down. He felt relief and frustration as he felt his hips expand back out as they gained room. Finally it fell away with a pop and landed on the floor with a clang.

Somewhere down below the obscuring large nose and gut, somewhere down in his tight pants, he knew that there was a cigarette box. Probably crushed by now. He bent halfway over, trying to get his fat little arms into his pocket. Eventually he wedged his clumsy hands inside of the skintight fabric. He got a bit of relief to his situation when his fingers met cardboard packaging. He produced the tiny box, it had been flattened but it still had a pair of intact smokes in it… the other three were ground to dust.

With a sigh he grabbed one and shook the loose tobacco off. A nice buzz would be welcomed about now. He clicked his lighter in his other hand and brought the flame to the cigarette resting in his massive mouth. He felt faint warmth in his mouth and watched the little whiff of smoke appear. Clicking the lighter closed, he inhaled and imagined the end of the cigarette burning down. He held it in, taking in a little bit of a calming buzz as he let the smoke linger in his lungs. It warmed him up nicely. And a moment later he exhaled and took the cigarette in his hand. He watched the stars through the sweet smelling smoke and tried to look on the bright side. Lorraine and Fret ended up far far bigger than he had. With a chuckle he put the smoldering cigarette back in his mouth and let himself fall back into his chair. He ended up on his back after a crack and bending metallic sound as the whole chair collapsed and dumped him back onto the deck plates.




A little picture to go with an old story doodle.