How to Have Fun All the Time

Two crocodiles were floating down a river of breast milk.
“Hey,” said one crocodile, “do you know how to have fun all the time?”
“No,” said the second crocodile. “Why?”
“Well, catching prey and swimming through breast milk is mostly fun, but I want to have fun all the time.”
“Hmm,” said the second crocodile. “Well, what about…if you were famous?”
Women in shackles lined the riverbanks, bent on their knees, squeezing milk out their nipples to keep the river flowing while Overseers stood behind them with whips.
“Nah,” said the first crocodile. “That would get old. Plus, you’d have to deal with paparazzi.”
The crocodiles kept swimming. A woman on the right riverbank refused to squeeze milk anymore. Instead, she stayed crouched and received the whippings, shuddering slightly after each blow, blood streaming down her back in tributaries.
“Hmmm,” said the second crocodile. “What if you had a mate, who loved you forever and always?”
The whipped woman, unconscious from blood loss, collapsed into the river with a splash.
“No, I...hold on a minute, I’m gonna eat this one,” said the first crocodile. The woman was suspended in the breast milk for a brief moment, curled up like a fetus, until the crocodile snapped its jaws at her legs, eating the bottom half of her. He swallowed, then ate the top half, taking his time to chew the tough skull. Blood from his feasting stained the river pink.
“As I was saying, I don’t think having a mate would mean you’d have fun all the time either,” he continued. “You’d have jealousy, and infidelities, and no end of lovers’ tiffs.”
 “Well, I guess having fun all the time just isn’t an option,” said the first crocodile. “Oh well.” And on they swam through the warm breast milk, the air a mass of swampy silence, pierced every so often by the crack of a whip.