It was no illusion. He was looking at a real live elephant and a white one at that. Dennis steadied himself against the door frame, in shock, and tried to take it all in. There it stood in the miniscule backyard of his home unit, its leg tethered to an iron stake, swaying gently to the music inside its head while chewing thoughtfully on the last of his cabbages. How had it got there? The yard had entry only through the unit and, for heaven’s sake, this was New Zealand not India. Where would one find a white elephant here? What idiot had dreamed this up?
After some minutes, he gained sufficient courage to make a careful circuit of the beast and the answer to his last question became apparent. Sspray painted on the far side in fluorescent orange was the message, “Lot’s of love from Aunty Vi.” What had he done to upset the cretinous old witch now? That was what the gifts of white elephants were traditionally used for, weren’t they? To ruin the recipient who was expected to feed and house the gift in the appropriate manner.
Aunty Vi was one of a kind and thank heavens for that. She was devious, savagely vindictive, and somewhat uncanny in her powers but she had one prime redeeming feature, money and loads of it. As her only living relative Dennis, quite naturally, had his hopes but Aunty Vi kept playing on those hopes with all the exquisite skill of a medieval torturer.
Well, what to do? The animal couldn’t remain in that confined space. Dennis went back inside and made a cup of tea to help him think the matter through. A crane had probably been used to lift the animal in with the connivance of that creep over the fence. It was useles to ask him for permission to take it back the same way, the two of them had had a running battle for years, neither could he have it put down and cart the pieces out through the unit. That would wipe his inheritance hopes completely. He had to accept Aunty’s imposition and smile gratefully no matter what the cost.
Yet the more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that the beast could be a valuable property given suitable commercial exploitation. Just imagine it, gaudily caparisoned , brightly painted in Indian ceremonial fashion, and surmounted by a glittering houdah. Could there ever be another parade without it? Millions of stupid kids and their equally stupid parents would line up for miles just to feed it.
But first, it had to be moved to more capacious accommodation so why not let someone else handle the problem of getting it out of the yard? There was no local by-law against keeping elephants but if the neighbours complained enough, and they would, he would see to that, the council would, without a doubt, find some pretext for removing it. And afterwards, it shouldn’t be too difficult to mount a successful legal challenge to regain possession.
And since the removal would be newsworthy, he would do the decent thing and make sure that the news cameras were present. Suddenly, he was feeling a marvellous affection for that stinking heap of leather out there, but then, he’d always had an affectionate nature. It was his one great failing. He was sure that on the day, he would be so upset at having his pet removed that he would have to be physically restrained, even violently so. And in front of the cameras, of course. That would really stir up the animal lovers and the civil-righters. With any luck, light up the whole slimy underbelly of do-gooders and cranks.
Could it be presented as a sacred elephant? The religious element. It might be possible to work in the racial element as well to give it universal appeal. In all probability, there’d be disaffected fools sending donations for a fighting fund giving him the opening for a little creative accounting. And the publicity would be free.
Just incidentally, it would be a wonderful opportunity to demonstrate to Aunty the true depth of his devotion and his appreciation of her so-kind gift.
“Yes, you scaley old bitch,” he thought, “I’m not your nephew for nothing.”