I’d been to Marineland. By all known accounts, I’d even ridden a dolphin. Hell, every time I brought a new gal back home she’d get regaled with the story of how I had spent the better part of my aquatic one-on-one with said dolphin stroking its belly, only to later (much later) find out that the smooth surface was not, in fact, the male dolphin’s stomach skin, but another type of skin altogether. My mother, in tears, would throw her head back in a howl of laughter, “oh honey, didn’t you wonder why little Willy was so excited when you stroked him?”
No mother. I did not.
Regardless, these experiences and rather…unwilling cozying up to these squeaky creatures did not prepare me for this. This strange gift the… fluids in that pool with that dolphin gave me.
I shifted uncomfortably in my plastic seat, carried by the waves. The sun was high. The air, stil,l in anticipation.
Squeakity squeak squeak squeak!
I nodded solemnly, and pressed my quill against parchment, translating the noise into discernible words: “Sharks are stupid.”
I do not know how this skill came about, or what use it really has beyond this one circumstance. Like the burning bush translating godly words to a baffled shepherd, it is my duty to impart upon you all which I transcribed that sunny afternoon.
I am the bush.
The dolphins circled my floaty chair, chippering their thoughts to me, incessant and unending. Why the fuck can I hear them? I will not burden you with finding the answer, reader. I have already contacted MYSSP and have been assured an appointment in just 7 months. Here it is. Dolphins: Unfiltered.
The alpha dolphin, the one with the deep scar cutting its left eye, chirped first, swaying its fin in a rotating motion to stay above water. “All these shark documentaries, shark weeks, and shark Toikes are just created to spread propaganda and misinformation about sharks.
They want you to think sharks are nice and lovely but really? They’re terrible. What’s the purpose of this propaganda, you might ask? I’ll tell you. They want to elevate sharks in the minds of the people, to make you believe they’re good, but this is all a ploy to get rid of the real victims: the dolphins. I will set the record straight and tell you why dolphins are better than sharks.”
Thrilled creaks of encouragement rang loudly, as Dolphin #2 and #3 clapped their fins in Machiavellan glee. The former, a plump dolphin with rosy cheeks and a crooked smile (do they smile?) pressed on.
“Shark’s aren’t even fucking smooth. You know who is smooth? ME. That’s right. Everyone love sharks so fucking much because they’re ‘misunderstood’ and ‘endangered’ but in reality, they’re full of lies and deceit.
Do you want to know how I know dolphins are better than sharks? Just think about it. Do children dream about swimming with sharks? Absolutely not. They want to swim with dolphins because DOLPHINS ARE BETTER THAN SHARKS!!!! I am so sick and tired of everyone pretending otherwise.”
Opinion stated, it jerked its chin to the third dolphin, the youngest-looking and most eager. I thought I caught it winking at me while it jerked its tail, but at that point, I assumed my delusion had reached new heights. I was in the middle of the fucking ocean, surrounded by flirtatious dolphins.
“Have you ever touched a dolphin? It’s wonderful. Luxurious. Magical. We are silky smooth. Slippery. Hydrodynamics at its finest. But touching a shark?? You will lose all your skin. Immediately. Those fuckers might look smooth but it’s a facade designed to lure you in. You see a shark and think ‘wow, that guy looks really smooth, maybe I’ll touch his back’ and next thing you know, you’re rubbing your hand all over sandpaper made of glass shards and it hurts even more because you’re in salt water and then the salt water gets into the cuts on your hand and next thing you know, you’re crying yourself to sleep because you’ll always be known as the dumbass who tried to pet a shark and no one will ever love you.
A dolphin would never do that to you.
Dolphins are full of love, joy, and smoothness.”
A couple of blats, bleats, chirps, clicks, creaks, pulses, quacks, racs, rasps, squeals, squawks, wails and whistles later, the pod seemed content with imparting this unprompted knowledge on me. Almost as quickly as they ambushed my raft, they disappeared.
Now all I have is all this dolphin knowledge and shark hate. I don’t know how to finish this article. I am confused.
