Daily Dabble: If Animals Could Talk – The World Would Be Louder, Ruder, and Way More Honest
There’s this question that pops up in stoner circles every now and then — somewhere between “What if you could hotbox the moon?” and “Do you think Jeff Goldblum has ever eaten a Lunchable?” — and it’s this:
What if animals could talk?
Not “sing in a princess voice” talk. Not “narrate a Pixar movie” talk. I mean full-on, unfiltered, swear-like-a-sailor, keep-receipts-and-pull-them-out-during-holidays talk.
If that switch flipped tomorrow, I’m 98% sure the first week would be chaos, the second week would be therapy, and by the third week, humans would be begging for the mute button back.
And as a functional closet stoner? I’d be so torn. Because on one hand, I love a good high conversation. On the other, the last thing I need is my dog outing my stealth stash to Mary Jane during dinner.
Kushie’s Revenge: The Roast Chronicles
Let’s start with my Brittany bird dog, Kushie. Right now, she’s an adorable bundle of fur and side-eye, speaking only in tail wags and “feed me” eyes. But if she had words? Oh, she’d be my biggest hater.
Picture it:
Me: “Good girl! You want a treat?”
Kushie: “Sure, Bud, but maybe you could try giving me one that isn’t expired this time? Just saying.”
Or worse — I come home after a late-night munchie run:
Kushie: “You really bought three different kinds of potato chips but forgot my biscuits? Wow. That’s a choice.”
And I know she’d bring up my questionable snack-floor incident:
Kushie: “Remember when you dropped that quesadilla and did the whole five-second rule thing? Yeah, it was thirty seconds, Bud. Thirty. Seconds. And there was hair.”
Her daily feedback loop would turn my quiet evenings into Comedy Central roasts.
Birds: The Neighborhood HOA Presidents
Right now, birds are background noise — little melodies you don’t think about unless you’re camping or watching a nature doc high. But in this new reality? Every bird becomes a Karen with wings.
Light up a sneaky joint on the porch?
“We can smell that from here, Bud. Oh my god, Sharon, he’s doing it again!”
Try sleeping in on a Saturday?
“Wow. Guess SOME people don’t have worms to catch. Must be nice.”
Crows would start clickbait-style drama channels. Blue jays would run smear campaigns against squirrels. And pigeons? Pigeons would become the passive-aggressive commuters of the sky, complaining about “wing traffic” like they’re late for a meeting.
Raccoons: Late-Night Talk Show Hosts
Give raccoons speech and they’d monopolize late-night entertainment. Picture a neon-lit dumpster behind an Applebee’s, lawn chairs set up, microphones stolen from Guitar Center.
The raccoon host — Ricky Two-Paws — kicks off the evening:
“Tonight on Trash Talk Live: which human restaurant chain has the best chicken wing bones, is pizza crust a crime or a gift, and who actually owns the moon? Stay tuned after the break when we confront Gerald the opossum about stealing breadsticks.”
Every show ends with a fight over a half-eaten burrito. The YouTube uploads get millions of views. I’m subscribed.
Squirrels: The Nut Mafia
Squirrels are already chaotic park gremlins, but once they can talk? They’re forming the Nut Acquisition Labor Syndicate (N.A.L.S.) faster than you can say “acorn shortage.”
They start charging tolls for walking under “their” branches. They leave passive-aggressive notes in your garden:
“Nice tomatoes. We’ll be taking a few. Consider it union dues.”
And they definitely gossip about your pantry:
“He keeps the pistachios top left cabinet, next to the quinoa. Tell the others.”
By winter, they’re running a black-market nut exchange out of an abandoned birdhouse.
Cows: BBQ Buzzkills
Cows, when given the gift of speech, would ruin barbecues forever.
Imagine rolling up to a backyard cookout:
“Oh hey, that’s Carl on the grill. We went to high school together. Shame about his calf injury.”
Suddenly, that burger doesn’t taste so good. Beef consumption drops. Veganism spikes. Plant-based burger companies become billionaires overnight.
Pet Store Therapy Sessions
Pet stores would be unbearable.
Parrots? Loud, judgmental life coaches with zero empathy.
“Hey, remember that text you sent at 2 a.m.? Yeah. Bad move, bro.”
Hamsters? Unionized wheel operators demanding better sunflower seed rations.
Goldfish? Casual assassins of your self-esteem:
“Wow, you’re back again? Guess dating’s still not working out.”
Even the hermit crabs would be shady:
“Commitment issues, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.”
The Existential Dolphins
Dolphins are already terrifyingly smart. Give them language and they’ll overthrow humanity in a month.
You’re on a boat, enjoying a nice sunset, and suddenly:
“Hey, you wanna know who really sank the Titanic?”
They’d start global conspiracy podcasts, sell merch, and probably run the most successful OnlyFins account on the internet.
Cats: The Drama Queens of the Apocalypse
Cats would immediately weaponize speech for emotional manipulation.
Me: “Hey, you knocked over my water glass.”
Cat: “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize my existence inconvenienced you. Let me just stop breathing.”
They’d also get way too invested in true crime podcasts, mostly to find new ways to glare at you like you’re next.
Stoner Science: The Butterfly Effect
Here’s the thing — the second animals can talk, the economy changes. Jobs change. Entire industries collapse or explode.
- Pet psychologists? Out of work.
- Zoo docents? Replaced by the animals themselves.
- Pest control? Impossible. You can’t kill a talking mouse without getting cancelled.
We’d have to create Animal Rights 2.0 — laws about emotional damage from being called “ugly” by a goose, mediation programs for fox-chicken disputes, and therapy subsidies for humans whose pets finally told them, “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
Bud’s High Hypotheticals
- If a mosquito could talk: Would you still kill it if it asked nicely not to?
- If your weed plant could talk: Would trimming feel like a betrayal?
- If squirrels could text: Would they send memes or just ransom notes for your bird feeder?
- If whales could call you: Would they be inspiring or just complain about noise pollution?
A Day in the Life: The New Normal
Wake up: Kushie asks why I’m wearing yesterday’s sweatpants.
Morning coffee: A pigeon critiques my latte art.
Lunch: A squirrel negotiates for half my sandwich.
Evening walk: A raccoon invites me to be a guest on Trash Talk Live.
Nightcap: A moth in my room gives a TED Talk on light addiction.
By the end of the day, my social battery is dead.
Bud’s Stoner Logic Conclusion
On paper, talking animals sound magical. In reality? It’s like living in a 24/7 Reddit thread with no mods and everyone has beef with you personally.
Every meal comes with a moral debate. Every errand turns into a press conference. Every stoned porch session becomes a Q&A with a squirrel named Dale who really wants to talk about cryptocurrency.
Would I still get high in this world?
Absolutely.
But I’d do it with noise-cancelling headphones, blackout curtains, and maybe a legally binding NDA for Kushie.
Bud’s Final Puff of Wisdom:
Sometimes the beauty of nature is in its silence. And sometimes, silence is just nature’s way of sparing you the fact that a raccoon named Ricky Two-Paws thinks your shoes make you look like a middle-school gym teacher.