‘Once I met a Dolphin, it didn’t Click.’

reading time: 3 minutes


A week ago, while contemplating my substantial monetary losses from a company I created called ShoeBrooms™ -The Shoes that Broom-, I found myself stuck on a beach.

Since the advent of the World Wide Web the Shopping Channel had been in decline.

No more brooming business.

I thought, and sniveled while absorbing this once again, genius play on words I seem to keep fabricating out of thin air.

The sun was setting and gently brooming my way over the beach I soon found myself trapped, knee-deep in the yellow sand.


Though it was a solid testament to the relentless performance of ShoeBrooms™ -The Shoes that Broom-, they once again got me into a fickle situation.

Left, right, front and back, if I were to move, I’d always end up deeper than my current whereabouts. It was a Catch 22 I had failed to envision. 

‘First my money and now this? Goddamn you ShoeBrooms™!!!’

Time ticked as I was stuck facing the slow approach of waves carrying a certain death. Banking on the years I’d spend in the army, I held it together for exactly four minutes, that’s when the hallucinations began. 

Now, these could have originated from the night before, which was a night like every other night; I got smashed, hard and fast and totally alone or these could have been the result of the rather mysterious fungi I had chucked into my morning omelet.

Whatever the case, I was going down spiritually connected. 

Pop. Pop.

Reality moved as the waves in front of me. Up, out and in again.

‘Just take off them silly goddamn shoes, idiot!’ Some peculiar shadows shouted, after which they disappeared into the far away distance. 

Pop. Pop.

Up, out and in again, until all of a sudden.

Flash! Something sparkled in the darkness surrounding me. 


Wut was thut?

The final rays of the setting sun were bouncing off the skin of a little beached whale.

Hot dang!

I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes.  

The decision was made as fast as my heart was pounding.

Me, savior of the realm, breaker of chains, mother of… 

With sweaty hands and diluted pupils I now knew I had to say goodbye to my ShoeBrooms™ -The Shoes that Broom-. Once unshackled, I made my way towards the little whaIe and pushed its bloating belly.

It gasped. 

‘Don’t worry my fellow sentient being, I am here to help you.’

Once again I could lean on my days in the army.

Gently, carefully, my lips connected with its lips and I started pushing in air. 

Prrrrrreeet… Prrrrrrrrrreeeet..  Prrrreeeet….



This shit wasn’t working.

Panic shot through my veins as the world around me tilted. I had to act fast if I wanted to make a difference, so I took the whale by it’s fish arms and turned it around and around until eventually I understood why the air was escaping.

My attempts in saving this beautiful creature, were made futile on account of a big gaping hole in the back of its head. Needless to say, it broke my heart.

Someone must have shot it before I arrived…

‘Goddammit!’ I cursed.

It still seemed to breath though, so I knew there was one thing left to do. 

“No need for suffering. Not on my watch!”

And with tears streaming down my face I cuddled the fish for well over an hour before it was time to say goodbye.

Drowning it was not an option so I tried strangling, but the piercing sound that came through the hole didn’t suit the situation one bit. I stuffed that cavity with as much sand as I could find after which I started to softly pound on it’s chest to invoke a cardiac arrest, the sweetest of deaths, I read in some magazine. 

It was around that time the peculiar shadows appeared once more. My head spun and my hand was already hurting.

Maybe they were fish angels coming to collect its soul?

I smiled at them most welcoming and where there were two before, now there were four and two seemed to be wearing a peaked cap and holding up some sort of.. 

And than it hit me… 

A voltage peak of up to 50,000, they explained to me in the hospital, where I woke up gasping for air after an adrenaline shot in the testes while two male nurses were removing the taser-clamps from my neck.

‘What about the little whale!’ I demanded, weeping from the adrenaline racing through my testes. 

‘Is it still alive?’ 

And that’s when I learned that it was not a whale, but a bottlenose dolphin, that it’s not a fish but a mammal, that it is called a blowhole and that it was already death for three days. 


Dollphins™ I thought, and sniveled and smugged all at the same time.

Dolls with fins, and maybe a blowhole somewhere.

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