When he was just a little sprout (waaay before I was born), apparently he was taken to the zoo (probably Brookfield Zoo) by my parents and my grandparents. He was snacking on peanuts, as was the tradition before peanut allergies brought us to our societal knees. He and Grampa were watching a hippopotamus in its enclosure, as it stood and walked about and did hippopotamusy things.
Brother reached into his bag of peanuts, pulled one out, regarded it thoughtfully, and then PLUNK threw it at the hippo.
Naturally, it went precisely into the hippopotamus's ear. And at that exact moment, the hippo decided to lay down. Now, when a hippo decides to recline, it's not a very graceful motion. It's more of a "crash to the ground on its side" kind of thing.
Brother shrieked, "Oh, GRAMPA! I KILLED IT! I THREW THE PEANUT INTO ITS EAR AND IT FELL OVER DEAD! I KILLED THE HIPPOPOTAMUS!"
Grampa nodded, "Yep. You did. Let's go," and he took my brother by his chubby, sweaty hand and led him swiftly away.
