Man, that guineafowl you made before sure was ridic— 

Whoa. Whoa, hey, what is that? It looks a little bit—

I’m not sure that’s really—

Oh god, evolution, what did you—

You didn’t have to go and—ow!

Wait, no, what is it—ow!—oh, Jesus. I’m so sorry I made fun of your other bird, okay? Please just call off the bone-crunching vulture and let’s talk about this.

"Hey, evolution, what are you working on?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, show me."

"I don’t want to."

"Aw, why not?"

"Because you’re going to think it looks stupid."

"What? No I’m not."

"Yes you are. You always do."

"Don’t be ridiculous. Aren’t we friends?"

"Fine. Here. It’s called a crested guineafowl."

"Oh my god, what happened to its head? It looks like you transplanted it from a smaller, uglier animal."

"I hate you."

Sure, it may seem like evolution made the male kangaroo ridiculously—even grotesquely—muscular. But you have to do something to impress the ladies if you’re going to keep them pregnant all the time, and they just don’t fall for kangaroo poetry anymore.

The emperor tamarin: Because somebody told evolution mustaches are “in.”

Why so gloomy, babirusas? Is it because evolution gave you some weird extra tusks that are awkward, brittle, mostly useless for fighting, and may eventually grow so long that they curve around and fatally puncture your skull? Could that be it?