A Crying Shame with Kerry the Giant Camel

Zoey, our roving rodent reporter and Zeek, photographer extraordinaire, interview a Titanotylopus spatulus, a giant camel, with titanic issues. Can Zoey and Zeek get the story without being swept away by their emotions?

(Outside the exhibit for Titanotylopus spatulas, Zeek and Zoey hear a strange sound and stop to listen: First they hear a sigh, followed by a deeper sigh, which ends with a series of tiny coughs that soon becomes snorts and then sniffles, and then woofs, wheezes, and warbles. After a very long pause punctuated only by what might have been hiccups, they hear a drawn-out, long-suffering wail.)

Zeek: We’d better get in there before whoever-it-is starts up again with—whatever that was.

(Just then an immense—giant, really—camel appears from behind a stand of palm trees.)

Zoey: Are you Kerry the giant camel?

Kerry: Yes, I am.

Zoey: We’re very pleased to meet you. I’m Zoey and this is my partner, Zeek. We’re here to interview you. I see you’re all settled into your new home. How are you doing?

Kerry: (Sighing) Great, just great. Couldn’t be better.

(Zeek and Zoey look at each other in surprise.)

Zeek: Uh, dude. We heard you just a minute ago, and whatever you were doing—it didn’t sound like everything was great.

Kerry: You heard me?

Zeek: Yeah, we heard you. Is anything wrong, or were those normal giant camel sounds?

Zoey: Zeek!

Zeek: Well, I’ve never met an extinct giant camel before! How should I know what one sounds like?

Kerry: Well…what did it sound like?

Zeek: Dude, there were, like, two dozen different noises. What was it supposed to sound like?

Kerry: (Hopefully) Did it sound as if I were…crying?

Zoey: Oh, dear! Were you crying, Kerry?

Zeek: Of all the things it didn’t sound like, crying would be right at the top of the list.

Kerry: It didn’t? Are you sure? Not even a little bit?

Zoey: I’m sorry, but it didn’t really sound like any crying I’ve ever heard before.

(Kerry begins to wail.)

Zeek: In case you’re wondering, it also didn’t sound like a chainsaw competition. Or the Chicago Symphony. Or a giant bag of cats—heh, heh.

Zoey: Zeek, please! Kerry, you seem upset. What’s wrong?

Zeek: (Whispering) That’s where all the cats should be. In a bag.

Kerry: (Sighing deeply) I have no lacrimal vacuities.

Zoey: I’m sorry, you have no what?

Kerry: You know, lacrimal vacuities.

Zoey: (Scratching her ear with her tail, pen poised above her notepad) Lacra … lacri…. I’m sorry, but could you spell that for me?

Kerry: L-a-c-r-i—oh, for cryin’ out loud! It means I don’t have any TEAR DUCTS! I can’t—I can’t— (Kerry makes a strangled sound that, from far away, might possibly be mistaken for the sound of crying – or, more likely, the sound of strangling.) I can’t CRY!

Zoey: But if you can’t cry…. I’m really terribly sorry. It must be awful for you. But what does not being able to cry have to do with the sounds you were making?

Kerry: Not only can I not cry, I can’t even make it SOUND as if I were crying!

Zoey: Oh, right. Of course. That makes perfect sense.

Kerry: Do you have any idea how distressing it is to not be able to cry? Everyone thinks I’m insensitive, that I have no compassion! My last girlfriend couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t cry during the sad parts when we watched her favorite chick flicks together, and she broke up with me because of it. I was so upset, I could have cried. Except I CAN’T!

Zeek: Also, you didn’t sound like a Zamboni at halftime!

Kerry: In the grand scheme of things, it’s not as if I’ve got anything to cry about. I’ve got great friends, a great pad—I mean, a great place to live.

Zeek: Or birds in springtime.

Kerry: My toe pads are extra great, truth be told. They’re the biggest toe pads around, among all the camels, and that’s not just bragging. Take a look. (He holds up his hind foot for inspection.)

Zeek: Or New York during rush hour. No, wait. You kind of did sound like that at one point.

Zoey: My, those are big toe pads!

Kerry: All in all, I’ve got a great life. I love living at the zoo, it’s a million times better than being extinct, let me tell you. So what am I complaining about, right? (Kerry leans against the fence, miserable.) It’s just that everyone says that if you have no compassion, you have no humanity—er, camel-anity—and how do they know you’re compassionate? Because they can see it when you cry!

Zoey: (Patting a giant toe pad with her tiny hand) I’m sure those who truly care about you can see beyond the surface to the inner you, Kerry. You seem very compassionate from where I stand. You should give your true friends a little more credit; I’m sure they love you for who you are.

Kerry: (Sighing) Maybe you’re right. Maybe crying isn’t everything.

Zeek: And finally, I can tell you from personal experience that you didn’t sound like a dinosaur on the rampage.

Zoey: Zeek! Will you pipe down? Kerry’s in crisis!

Zeek: Whatever you do, don’t ask a Bluebuck why he sings the blues. The answer just might make you cry.

Kerry: (Perking up) Really?