Me? I enjoy being a whale. I know, some of the other cetaceans have a few issues. Every once in a while, some poor schlub decides to end it all and tosses himself up on a beach somewhere.
I’m more easy-going about it. To me, life is good. Water’s nice—all the krill you can eat. What’s to stress over?
I don’t usually do this tourist-boat schtick, but mating season started a little early for my friend Wally, and he asked me to cover for him.
It’s not exactly challenging. Man, these people are really easily impressed. I’m thinking maybe I’ll do something a little different than Wally’s usual routine. See that lady over there with the camera and the little white dog? Watch this…
In 250 words or less, tell me a story incorporating the elements in the picture. The 250 word limit will be strictly enforced.
Please keep language and subject matter to a PG-13 level.
Use the comment section below to submit your entry. Entries will be accepted until 5:00 PM Pacific Time on Tuesday, June 19th, 2012.
On Wednesday morning, we will open voting to the public with an online poll for the best writing entry accompanying the photo. Voting will be open until 5:00 PM Thursday.
On Friday morning, the winner will be recognized as we post the winning entry along with the picture as a feature. Best of luck to you all in your writing!
Entries only in the comment section. Other comments will be deleted.
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Photograph by K.S. Brooks, used here with the photographer’s permission. Copying or reproduction of any kind without express consent is prohibited. All rights reserved.
For a more detailed explanation of the contest & its workings, please see the post called “Writing Exercises Return with a Twist” from 12/24/11.
By participating in this exercise the contestants agree to the rules of the contest and waive any and all further considerations or permissions otherwise required for any winning entries to be published by Indies Unlimited as an e-book, showcasing all the photos and with the winning expositions credited appropriately and accordingly.
Since my friend Wally is off with his mate (lucky guy), I'm doing stand-in duty for all these tourist boats. I'm sure glad this is only temporary work. The pay isn't anything to write home about. But I'm going to make the most of it while I'm here.
See the lady on that boat over there? The one that's headed this way. She's got her camera ready. Typical tourist. I'm going to have to put on a special performance for this one. Spice up the day a little. I'm tired of just showing how cool I look jumping out of the water and coming down with a big splash. Now, let's see, what can I do?
That little white dog must be hers. It's watching my every move. OK. Here goes. First I'll make it look as if I don't see them. In fact, I'll take off in the opposite direction. That ought to disappoint them. Yeah, she’s turning away. My trick worked. Now, I'll have to be quick about this. Under water it is. Yes, there’s the bottom of the boat. I'm right on target.
Here I come! Now, to dive under as quickly as possible. The dog yelps. The boat rocks violently, and over goes the dog. The woman screams. Now for my finale. Nose to the dog, lift and toss him back on board, still barking and no worse for the dip. That woman has just missed the shot of a lifetime.
"Wally, you're going to have a lot to live up to after this," I thought as I let my back breach the water, sending a geyser of water through my blowhole. Sure, tourists are easily impressed—and therefore the pitiful show Wally usually gives—but I'm not going to let these people go home without a story to tell their children.
Arching my body, I go into a deep dive, slapping the water's surface with my tailfin to splash the boatside tourists. I hear the muffled sounds of their laughter as I dive, laughing to myself that my drenching them is seen as funny.
Finally, I swim in a small loop, positioning my nose upwards towards the sunlight dappling the calm waters above me. My body undulates and I pick up speed. As I near the water's surface, I see the distorted forms of humans leaning over the side of the boat.
Then, I shoot out from the water, my body shining in the bright sunlight. I soar up and over the boat, slapping the camera out of the dog lady's hand with my tailfin as I do. If only I could see the look on her face. I nosedive into the water on the other side, coming up to see the delighted faces of the tourists.
It's a little move I like to call the "Free Willy."
Let's see Wally top that.
Arrgh! I thought to myself as I hit the water in exactly the wrong way. Oh, the pain in my side! I can’t even move! This is not going to look good, a whale drowning…
On the tour boat, the woman was still taking photographs of the whale, which seemed to be doing some sort of odd mating dance on its side. While she was mesmerized, the small white dog knew something was wrong with that poor whale, and that he had to do something!
Backing to the other side of the boat, no one saw the small dog swiftly change into the bright red cape and blue muzzle-cloaking mask of Ultradog! Ultradog launched himself into the air off the aft end of the tour boat.
Ultradog swiftly speared into the waves near the whale, which was wallowing and gurgling in pain. Underneath the giant mammal, Ultradog lifted him up, out of the sea.
The people on the boat looked on with amazement as the gallant pooch carrying the whale effortlessly. Ultradog flew the whale over the mid-deck of the tour boat, the people moving obligingly so the Canine Crusader could put the now-breathing whale on the deck.
With a mighty “Arf, arf and away!” Ultradog flew off into the sky.
Moments later, the small white dog reappeared next to his mistress. She looked down at him. “Oh, Mr. Pish! Did you see Ultradog? Isn’t he the ginchiest?”
The small canine gave her an approving bark and a knowing wink.
She trailed her hand through the water: oily, thick, green. The same colour as the sky, which was always green when the boat lurched like that. Watching him fold the spinnaker neatly into its bolster was as annoying as having to "scoot over to port" when he asked her to lean against the awful tilt of the boat. She was starting to hate the early rises, the tepid thermos coffee, the broad grin on his face every time they lost sight of the thin, thin ribbon of land on the horizon.
What was she doing there, in her stupid yellow shower-proof jacket and long-sleeved shirt with rubber buttons? Why did she even bother with sunglasses attached to her neck with a length of neoprene, the shoes that left no mark on the non-slip deck that was anything but? Why did she not say she could not figure out what the gimballed instruments indicated?
"Scoot over to starboard!"
She moved to the other side and leaned heavily on the taut wires, holding on for dear life as her chest came twelve inches from a green frothy wave that smelled of salt and bilge. The slosh wet her feet. Damn. Blast.
And then she saw it, breaking the surface not four feet from her nose. The barnacles, the baleen ridges, the steely little eye that spotted her on the swilling deck. The sensation of relationship dowsed her, and she knew she suddenly, for only one reason, loved it.
Most people who come out on these boats don't think about what salt water can do to a camera. They just want to see the whale make a splash. They took my best friend away to some sea park just so people could see him splash. Ok humans, I'll give you splash…
I swam in circles under the boat for several minutes. I can stay under a long time. It seems even longer when your boat is rocking back and forth in what feels like stormy waters. The trick is to get the boat rocking enough that the humans hold the sides to keep from going over, then break surface when they're guard is down.
It was a work of art. I got the sea roiling just right and then broke completely vertically, coming down so that my tail added an extra flip of sea wave over the side. The woman with the dog slipped and had to choose which to save…the camera or the dog. Unfortunately she let the camera go. I figure watching me eat the dog would have kept her off my ocean forever.
I teased them a little longer, swimming under the boat to keep it moving and occasionally giving them a flash of tail and another wave over the side. By the time I got bored they were all soaked. So were their cameras, I figure not one of them will end up with a decent picture or a working camera when they get home.
I promised my pal, Wally, I’d do swim-bys for the tourist boats while he was seeking romance. He’s a small right whale, I’m a humpback and size matters to humans on the tour boats. They cheer and take picture after picture. I dive deep and thrust myself up out of the water until I dance on my tail.
She was the only tourist holding a little white dog in her arms and not smiling. That caught my attention. I read her thoughts and knew her feeling, the loss of someone loved. Her pain was my pain. The memory of a pod of dolphins cheering me after my mother’s death came to me.
I surfaced beside the boat, arched and beaver slapped my flukes. The wave broke over the boat’s railing sweeping the woman and dog overboard. I slipped under them, lifted them on my back, and circled the boat. The fifth time around, she truly enjoyed the ride and laughed while the little dog barked.
I swam up against the boat. The captain reached out and lifted her over the rail. The dog winked at me as he leaped on the deck. Debt paid, I dove, surfaced, blew and rolled. The last time I saw her, the captain had his arm around her and she threw me a kiss.
I don't mind filling in for a brother who's getting a little action. Someone has to entertain the watchers, as we call them. The watchers just want to see a little spout, maybe a breach and they really like the old tail slap especially if we give them a little soaking in the process. It is all in good fun and really no trouble. Badda boom badda splash. But as soon as I saw that lady with her camera and her little dog I wanted to tell her she wasn't in Kansas anymore.
So I swam up right beside the little zodiac boat (what a funny name for a boat!) and looked her right in the eye. They love that! But every since that movie came out a few years ago, there is always some idiot who thinks they are Dory! Sure enough she did it! “Iiiiiiiiiehhhhhh speeeeeeeeeeaaaaak Whoooooaaaaahhheel” she said as a whole boat full of happy watchers laughed. Funny! I simply replied in my best Dory imitation, “Yooooooooooouuuuuuuuuh aaaareeeeee annnn idd deee ought!!!!!!” Then I gave them the tail slap they so richly deserved. Watchers should just watch and not try to talk like whales. And that goes for your little dog too! You don't see me impersonating flipping flipper after all.