Kinkajou

kinkajou

It was a dark and fab night in the lowland rainforest. Kinkajou was hanging around, licking nectar with his right-on long skinny tongue and at the same time knitting an afghan with his nimble, boogie-wonderland hands. Kinkajou remembered the time he ate strawberry ice-cream when he was visiting his cousin Raccoon. Kinkajou was barfing all morning: was a real bummer getting his threads all cheesed up.  

Kinkajou is totally vibing on his tree crib and even though he can’t see color, his pad is decked out in so many groovy colors. So many colors he can almost smell them, Brotha. And Kinkajou are real keen sniffers. Kinkajou never discos on the forest floor, they keep it sharp and chill from the canopy listening to the Bee Gees and Donna Summers. Catch you on the flipside, Kinkajou.

Least Concern