The mongoose was on the prowl, looking for some snake, the venomous kind, very much like a repressed horny man seeking free pornography. It exuded desperation, and didn’t give one iota of shit beyond the end goal.
It was an Indian gray mongoose. It’s how they do. This is not to say they’re all the same. That would be mongoosism. Yet, at the same time, it is not a denial.
When one is born agile, with a thick coat, and has acetylcholine receptors, which makes one immune to venom, what other choice is there? You do the thing you are born to do. It’s like being born with no arms and legs, you roll over.
Also, they have small brains which make them stupid. It limits them to only one way of living, quite possibly similar to the plight of the Caucasians and their need for mayonnaise. God forbid, a dry sandwich.
Deep down, the mongoose knew it was on the wrong track. The absence of fellow mongeese was a big clue. It shrugged it off based on the logic, more snakes for me.
Its wish came true. The mongoose ignored all of its natural instincts and found itself surrounded by a pit of snakes.
The snakes were all like, not in my house mongoose, and they savagely attacked the trespasser.
Another thing about mongoose, they are damn stubborn. Forget about any parable you may have heard, the mongoose makes a mule seem flexible and easy-going.
As the snakes slithered away, proud of their victory, they left behind a beaten to a pulp mongoose, bleeding all over the place, breathing slowly. It twitched and simply refused to die.
MORAL: If you ever find yourself in a rap battle to the death, mongoose is the perfect rhyme for Victor Von Moose.