It's no joke

It’s no joke being the only kangaroo in here. The last time they did a head count I got counted more than once because they don’t make allowances for my need to jump. They just don’t appreciate my need to express my kangarooness, that I can’t be a panda, a jaguar or elephant just to please them; it doesn’t work like that.
It was tough when I first got here and not just because I was ill. The others just stared at me, made no attempt to welcome me at all. I even heard one of them saying that I was snooty because my nose is always in the air but Jesus, you should have smelt that air from where I was standing, especially nearer to the ground. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t hung up about being a bloke kangaroo just grateful that I had no need to be doing all that bending down to my pouch business and I could stay upwind from those smelly beasts.
I did try to make friends at first but you soon toughen up when you realize the mentality of places like this. I mean, where I came from we were all happy, just bouncing around in the dust. Any problems, you just gave a quick bop on the snout and it was sorted out then we could just kick back and chill ‘til the sun went down. No chance of that here, no dust, no one to bounce with, to gaze at the horizon with and share a drink or a scuffle. At least not until now. That bloke in charge, he’s a right know-all, joked about women always taking ages to get ready. There’s late and there’s late – but Noah still lowered the gangplank and let her on.