The hippo will still bite her and ruin her day.
My elementary school music teacher edited those two lines to make them (almost) rhyme:
Mother says the hippo will eat me to bits
But then Teacher says a hippo is a vegetari-us.
Such wasteful asshats!
No, they’re just being generous to their fellow wildlife.
First they thoroughly tenderize the meat by stomping the person all to heck. Then they season them with a little fresh hippo urine. Which also starts some chemical sorta-digestive effects making the still-cooling tender flesh more palatable.
Then they walk away, leaving the now ready-to-eat corpse to those poor hungry scavengers (im)patiently waiting their turn.
Hippos: the generous gentlemen and ladies of the veldt. 
::reminder to self - decline @LSLGuy’s invitation to cook me dinner::
Anything from McSweeney’s is a wonderful Christmas gift, so, thank you!
Now, off to read it.
ETA: it did not disappoint. Thanks again.
The next 24-40 hrs is going to suck, drinkwise. For the past double-digitsome number of years Xmas Eve was spent with George Bailey & the (progressively) bad elves
- a) not only are there only three elves now (there used to be five - Bad, Very Bad, Seriously Bad, Criminally Bad, & Insanely Bad), but
- b) ; they cut production, even the distributor wasn’t able to get any this year
Then on Christmas morn I make pancakes, washed down with Christmas Pancakes. Guess I’ll make some Irish Toast instead.
My life would have been very different– possibly much more wretched and shorter, but certainly different– if it had been alcohol that was that important to me instead of sugar.