From the groaners listserv, a venerable tale, of course.

As Franz Kafka awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed into a raging bull elephant. He charged around his room with his trunk sticking straight up making loud trumpeting noises. The picture of the lady in furs came crashing down, the vase of anemones tipped over.

Suddenly afraid that his family might discover him, Franz stuck his enormous head out of the window overlooking the courtyard.

But it was too late. His parents and sisters had already been awakened by the racket, and rushed into his room. All of them gasped simultaneously as they stared at the great bulk of Franz’s rump. Then Franz pulled his head and turned toward them, looking sheepish.

Finally, after an awkward couple of minutes, in which no one spoke, Franz’s mother went over and rested her cheek against his trunk and said, “Are you ill, dear?”

Franz let loose a bloodcurdling blast, and his mother slipped to the floor.

Franz’s father was about to help her but noticed the anemones tipped over on the table. He picked them up and threw them out the window, saying, “With Franz like this, who needs anemones?”