Let’s end this brief, scintillating chapter in our lives. A cobra escaped from a zoo. The cobra got a fake Twitter account. We were all rapt, captivated by the cobra’s fake daily life, wondering where the cobra might be. The cobra was found after nearly a week. The cobra was returned to its zoo-habitat. A newspaper and the zoo decided to name the cobra, which someone had done nearly a week ago on Twitter, but whatever. The newspaper and the zoo had a naming contest. There were semi-finals. And now, finally, the cobra has an official name. Write it down!
The cobra does not give a shit, we are sure, but the cobra’s name is Mia, which, as the Daily News pointed out last week “stands for ‘missing in action’ but will be pronounced ‘Me-ah.'” The BronxZoosCobra, who does perhaps give a shit, says this.
And now, we are officially tired of talking about cobras, and cobra names, and cobra Twitter accounts. The cobra has jumped the shark; the shark has eaten the cobra. The End. (Until the person behind the BronxZoosCobra is unveiled. Please be Bieber.)