In Name Only

There's a lot to like about a rhinoceros. The thick skin, the sharp horn, the nasty temper. The sheer power and single-minded brutality of the charge. The near-blindness and thick-skulled stupidity. That's why I decided to become one.

Me and several of my like-minded friends. Just packed up our bags, moved to the Serengeti, and converted.

So you might be wondering why we've been hunting down and shooting rhinos. Other than the flourishing trade in rhino horns, of course. It's very simple. We're purifying the species.

It didn't take long for us to notice that a lot of the old-line rhinoceroses were dinosaurs. Rhinosaurs, we call them. It's these out-dated rhinos we're after, you see. We discovered that, while a rhinosaur might gore a victim with its mighty horn, it wouldn't return and keep on goring until the subject stopped twitching. It would run something over, but it wouldn't keep trampling until the crunching stopped. And it would never accuse its adversary of being a thick-skinned, short-tempered, blind, brutal idiot before goring and trampling. In short, they aren't mean enough.

Now, that is not a true rhino. That is a rhino in name only. They have to be stopped before they give the rest of us a bad name.