Once there was a hippo who lived in a children’s book and he realized one day that he wanted to hear a story about the little boy who was always reading about him.
And so he asked the child if this would be ok. And the child said, “Sure,” and so he started telling the hippo a story about how he woke up that morning and brushed his teeth. And the hippo said, “You brush your teeth?” And the child said, “Of course I do.” And then the child said, “Do you want hear a story about me or do you want to ask a lot of questions?” And the hippo said, “Sorry, I’ll listen to the story.”
So the hippo listened from his swamp which was on the last page of his book as the boy went on and on. And he was right at the part about how he’d built a lego garage but shouldn’t have built it naked because he sat on a lego, when his mother interrupted and told him it was time for bed.
His mother then rather abruptly closed the book and the hippo didn’t even get to hear the rest of the boy’s story. And from his bed, the little boy could still hear the hippo from inside the back cover of his book, begging from the bookshelf to know what happened next.