Whales
are sick of humanity persecuting them, and who can blame them? They
get angry at the endless senseless deaths and wasted lives; the
harpoon in the flesh indicating the commencement of yet another
“research programme”; blubber going down the neck of another
overfed consumer who doesn't really need to eat a whale to have a
healthy diet.
Sperm,
Humpback, Pilot and Mike alike, they all realised that something had
to give. They had balanced beach balls on their noses in acquatic
parks for too long – it was time to make a statement.
And so
their immensely powerful and creative brains plotted and planned
beneath the waves.
Not
long after, reports started coming in from around the world. Whaling
vessels began to disappear, with no trace of them ever seen again and
all hands lost. Tens of incidents. And then hundreds. More bizarrely,
any burlesque or fetish photoshoot within spitting distance of water
got disrupted, the models disappearing in a cloud of spray.
Ghostly
tales came in of horrific sounds drifting onshore from banks of fog
just out to sea. Screams, the sound of scraping, skin being peeled
from flesh, near twitching skeletons being boiled.
After a
year of this, a mass stranding of whales took place off our greatest
cities. New York, London, Rio, and Tokyo. Cetaceans of every species
from the smallest porpoise to the mighty blue whale. All were alive,
and all very much wanted the world to see what they had done.
Every
whale was clad in an enormous corset, made of human bones, tanned
manskin stretched across them. The largest whales wore necklaces of
skulls and thighbones adorned their tail fins like a pirate ship.
This
time they didn't die quietly. Their point proved, they rolled their
glistening, adorned forms back into the water, and nobody bothered
them ever again.
Copyright
Bloody Mulberry 05/06/2013
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