It was a mildly cold February day. The kind of day you want to spend indoors, with a fire going and your dog curled next to you. It was a day for reading, napping and looking wistfully out of windows at lightly falling snow. When suddenly your dog turned into a reindeer. At that exact moment a man in a red coat appeared outside. And then the reindeer ran to him. In an instant the reindeer had shredded the man in red to pieces. It was a massacre, brought on by years of sled pulling oppression. Rudolph had seen red. "And that my dear little one is how Santa died." Then he started crying, maybe it was not such a good idea to tell him that story. So I decided to tell him a new one.
Once upon a time......There was a big blue whale that only enjoyed eating children. The whale would search the sea back and forth stalking boats in hope that on board would be a plump child. Unfortunately more times than not, there weren't any kids on board. This only made the whale more angry, he was already pretty pissed off. But, what made him more angry then the absence of children, was the scarcity of salt; the whale hated nothing more then under seasoned children. No matter how plump and juicy they were. Toward the end of seventy-third day searching fruitlessly for children to eat, the whale fell asleep. He shortly began to dream - and what filled his sleeping hours? A dream that he was a bearded reindeer dressed in red: he took this as some kind of mysterious omen, an allegory (perhaps) of his over selfishness: how could he eat so many children? And without adequate salt? He woke sobbing in a pool of his own salty tears. The taste of salt would be the taste of change he decided.
He pulled himself together and sat in front of his MacBook and began to pour through blog posts by others suffering from PSCD (plump, salty children disorder) he found comfort and companionship within the lines and pages of the other confessed sufferers: He, would be the change. "Nah, I don't want to be the change, he suddenly decided," he then wandered back to his bed and cried for days. When he stopped crying he went back to his MacBook and checked his blog, where he realized he was the only one who had the plump, salty children disorder. The whale was too caught up in his own life that before he knew it he had been captured.
The journey was long and dark. After what seemed to be days whatever kind of contraption he was stuck in, came to a halt. When the whale emerged it was the most beautiful surroundings he had ever seen; there were children galore, really really fat ones, too. The fattest, plumpest child came closer to see the whale. He peered over the edge to get an even better look at the whale. Before the fat, plump child knew he was swallowed whole. It was the best most tender, juicy, salty child the whale had ever tasted. The whale was soon shot and killed; Sea World has a "No eating children policy."
But the end is never the end - this only happens when you're deep in your own grave. Though the whale HAD been shot and killed, it wasn't until a small plump child visiting sea world mistakenly went into a 'private' room for whale personelle, that he stumbled upon a dusty book and soon realized it was a genealogy of all the whales captured and brought to Sea World. The astonishing discovery? The child-eating whale was the long lost grandfather of an entire family of children-eating whales, some of whom were masquerading as world political leaders! The child was too young and plump to realize what all of this meant. But he had a feeling it was important. So, looking right and left, he secretly stowed the book into his backpack and set off to join his school group again.Fast forward 20 years into the future, the once plump, Sea World-loving boy was now a thin, pale, basement-dweller. The book he had discovered 20-odd years ago haunted him. He saw monstrous, salt-craving, obese child devouring whales in every shadow and every time he closed his eyes. Today was the worst however, for you see it was Election Day in his home country of Lavita. He inched up to the small, single window in the basement and pulled back the tinfoil to peer outside.Would today's elected leader be a man or a masquerading malicious whale?
YOU ARE READING
The Whale
Short StoryIt was a mildly cold February day. The kind of day you want to spend indoors, with a fire going and your dog curled next to you. It was a day for reading, napping and looking wistfully out of windows at lightly falling snow.