The elephant rolled disconsolately in the dust, covering himself in a fine powder.
He snorted and mumbled through his trunk, and a dust cloud settled over him like a canopy. He sighed and coughed and rubbed his knees into the dirt.
“I’m bored,” he said.
“How can you be bored in this?” The dust cloud helped rub the irritants out of the elephant’s skin. “This is pleasant.”
“It’s the same old thing,” said the elephant. “Foraging and eating and dust baths and jungle.” He flopped onto his other side, making the dust cloud rise into the air. “I want something different.”
“Such as?”
“Not any particular thing,” said the elephant. “Just something else. Something which I don’t have.”
“That’s rather unfocused,” said God.
“Well. It’s rather difficult to be focused in this.” The elephant coughed to prove his point.
“With your imagination,” the dust cloud said as it stirred itself into the dark of night, “if you can’t create the things you want, perhaps you don’t deserve them.”
“That’s easy for the Creator to say.”
“Hmmm.”
The Creator in question suddenly settled all the dust at the elephant’s feet.
“Look around you. There the sun rises and there the sun sets. That way are the mountains, that way is the sea. Every river, every grassland, every tree, and every path is teeming with life and adventure. And the promise of something you have never experienced before.”
“Your point?” asked the elephant.
“Your move,” said God.