The elkhood live in the glade behind our house. They like to chew, methodically, on the tough forest greens. Their top teeth are like pestles. Their bottom teeth like mortars. They grind seed and grain to flour in their mouths. My wife employs the elkhood as she would a gristmill. She allows the elkhood to consume one eighth of the food they process. The elkhood are slender and sinewy. Their jaws have biceps. The elkhood have a leader who has many rounded breasts and a large, open vagina that doubles as a nursery. The many elkhood children are often found playing within her. The walls of her vagina are covered in bright posters. The floor of her vagina is always vacuumed after snack time. The elkhood tower over us. We are small and plump and barely move. When I yell into my wife’s vagina, my voice circles around inside and comes back diminished in loneliness. But we own the elkhood and have many other wonderful possessions.
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Gabriel Garcia Marquez