Category Archives: Short Stories

Quick fictional stories about anything and everything with recorded audio.

Short Stories

Part time heroes

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Superheroes and villains are paid hourly

“Captain flying brick you will never catch me!” The indestructible man shouted as he raced down an alley.

“Think again indestructible man!” Our hero retorts as he flies into the alley, readying his laser vision to trap the indestructible man.

To our hero’ surprise the indestructible man has dropped the bags of money he stole and is pointing fiercely at his watch. Our hero quickly checks his own. It’s 5:00, shift is up.

Our hero looks around and points to a storm drain. The indestructible man flashes him the OK symbol, and the two silently lift the man hole cover and drop through..

As the sound of sirens gets closer the captain shouts as loud as he can. “Oh no, not through the apartment complex, you dastardly fiend!” And then quickly covers the man hole behind him.

“Phew.” Indestructible man says as soon as the captain drops in behind him. “I thought we were going to have to have a climactic battle or something. I’m still sore from the last one.

“Indestructible indeed, you know I take that name as a challenge right?” The captain asked.

“Oh it was in the contract, don’t give me gripe.” Both were swapping out their costumes for street clothes that had been stored in some cached duffle bags. The city’s maintenance personnel were told to keep all storm drains stocked with them for the heroes. They didn’t know the villains used them too.

“You want to grab some wings?” The villain asked.

“Sure, I’ll pick up a paper so we can take a look at the crime rates while we’re at it.” The captain said.

“Great.” Indestructible replied. “I think my gang is up to about 120 people, so when you find my secret hideout and round them up we should see a couple percent drop.”

“You don’t think your henchmen will suspect something?” The captain asked.

“Nah, I’ll just have some incompetent people on guard duty. I’m sure they’ll start a fight or something that we can use as the excuse for you finding me.”

Short Stories

How much do my parents love me?

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Abortion is legal until the age of 18, a kid who’s still a month away from his 18th birthday faces a difficult choice.

“Good night dear, we love you.” My parents called.

“Love you too.” I called back. Love me, that’s what they said. They didn’t know what I’d done today.

All my life my parents had raised me to be a great doctor. They had given me extravagant gifts and much praise whenever I brought home a 4.0 GPA, and I had brought home a 4.0 GPA every semester of my life.

I had been a part of all the right extracurricular activities and volunteer groups. Until today my chances of getting into the right school had been 100%.

Today had been the SAT. I had practiced for months, read every book on the subject, and taken every necessary class. My preparation had been ideal, and every sign indicated I should score in the top 5%.

I scored in the fifth percentile alright, just not the upper fifth. I hadn’t told my parents my score. Most students received their scores a week after testing. I didn’t know you could receive your scores the same day until today. After I had completed my exam, one of the proctors pulled me aside and told me that I had scored in the bottom five percent.

Before I could cry out that such a score wasn’t possible for me he had hastily told me that I wasn’t supposed to know, but parents had been known to abort their children when they scored low.

“It isn’t super common.” He had said. “But it happens.”

“My parents would never do that to me!” I had shouted. Thankfully he had pulled me into an empty soundproof room to have this discussion.

“Is it?” He asked. “You know who gets the pre-birth abortions right? Kids without futures” I didn’t respond. “Think about it kid, think of all those children with birth defects who get the axe.”

“But I’m not defective.” I said, still reeling from what I was hearing.

“I know that.” He responded. “I didn’t say you were, but to them, they’ve put a lot of money, time, and energy into your success, and after today, well, not saying anything about your future kid, but that kind of a score doesn’t look good.”

I thought about all the vacations my parents had taken me on, all the money on tutors, private schools, summer school, vacations to educational places, and all of it in their eyes was now wasted.

I could retest of course, but not until after my birthday, and a retest wasn’t a clean slate. I still had community colleges, night school, trade school, apprenticeships, but medical school was all but gone for me.

To them, I might as well have just plastered ‘boomerang generation’ on my forehead. My outlook on life did not look good.

I had jokingly told my friend that my parents would kill me if I scored low. Could it be true?

“How old are your parents kid?” The man asked me.

“Late thirties early forties.” I said.

“Still young enough to start over.” He told me. “Adoption agencies are eager to give kids to parents with practice.”

‘We love you’. My parents had told me before I went to bed. Was I willing to stake my life on that?

Short Stories

Jerk aliens

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“No, no, no, we said if you want the replicator technology you must get rid of three charities of our choosing.” The head alien told the UN negotiator.

“It isn’t a matter of money, it’s a matter of it being funny to us. Now do you want the power to summon food out of thin air or not?” It was a difficult choice, and no mistake. They had tried electing several different UN negotiators to no avail.

First it had been the politically sound choice. A champion diplomat with a half millennia of international negotiation experience. They had asked him which of his family and friends he was willing to personally sacrifice for advanced laser technology, and after five days of going through his family photos, he had quit.

Second had been the academic choice. A team of scientists and professors had been found from the tops of their professions. The aliens had told them that they must fight to the death to win teleportation tech. One scientist had actually picked up the ornate knives they had offered and made for one of his colleagues. He was removed from the team, and shortly thereafter the team was disbanded.

Third had been the religious choice. The pope, the Dalai Lama, and several other heads of religion were sent to obtain food cloning technology. Each of them was asked to denounce their god, and had promptly refused to continue negotiations, but they did offer to pray for the next negotiator, which was nice of them.

Lastly, the world governments had tried one last unorthodox method in a final attempt to extract some useful information.

“And I’m telling you slimy lot of impudents I won’t even talk about any minging piece of miserable alien tech until I’ve had a chance to see it work!” Gordon Ramsey shouted.

“How am I supposed to know this little artificial chef is any good at cooking? The little blighter probably doesn’t know Cheesecake from the holocaust, and would probably put ketchup on both!”

Sometimes evil needs to be fought with another kind of evil.

Short Stories

Video game vision

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Level 22 nerd Teddy looked like he had aced the test as usual. I give him a nod and a congratulatory handshake as we walk down the high school halls to lunch, making sure to dodge the level 50 harpy with her dress of +3 shrieking, and her troll boyfriend. She clearly had some buffs casted onto him, and the two were usually trouble.

I wave goodbye to Teddy as I go and sit with my level 5-10 crew of humans. We all had very ordinary stats, a video game move here, a leadership buff there, but we were all pretty normal guys. I liked it that way, no competition. Just some regular old people having some regular old conversation.

I notice that our quarterback is sporting a new special move, but before I can make it out someone sits down across from me. He appears to be just like me and my friends at first, until I see his class and level contain only question marks.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the quarterback’s sweet new fake punt move?” He asks, looking straight at me.

“Uh yeah.” I say.

“How could you know that?” My friend with +2 athleticism asks. “We just practiced that before school?” The mystery man shrugs, without breaking eye contact with me.

“I know things.” His eyes narrow. “Many things.”

“James Franklin Glasgow, let’s go.” The mystery man says.

“Go where?” I look to my friends, but none of them seem to hear.

“You shall see.” He says. I look at my friends. None of them seem to think this is strange, and I need to figure out what the question marks mean.

“Where are we going?” I ask, standing up and following him out of the cafeteria.

“To the afterlife.” He says. I try to dive away from him, but I’m suddenly unable to move.

“Your friends are about to figure out that you’re suffering a lethal allergic reaction to that crabmeat sandwich you’re eating. The mods have decided to pull you before it got too painful, seeing as you’ve been good enough to beta test ‘stat vision’ for us. They’re awaiting your report on the new special ability now.”

Short Stories

A rom com?

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“James if you walk out that door, then we’re done. There’s no going back.” Jessica said, tears in her eyes to her now ex-fiancé. James hesitated with his hand on the door. Could he go back? Was this problem fixable? He turned toward Jessica with his answer.

“I’m sorry Jessica. I just can’t do this anymore.” Jessica’s lip trembled, and James left before she burst into tears.

“Phew, man, so glad I dodged that bullet.” James said, as Jessica’s wails become audible through the door. As James reached the car his best friend called.

“James, did you do it?” She asked.

“Yeah, me and Jessica are through.” I reply.

“I’m so sorry James.” She says.

“It had to happen.” I say. “We just weren’t meant for each other.

“Well, if you need to talk about it I’ll be here for you this weekend. Do you want to get coffee?” She asked.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” I say. “But I’ll have to decline. I’m actually really looking forward to having some alone time.”

“Um, okay.” My best friend replies. “If you change your mind I’m always here for you James.” She says.

“Cool, thanks, I really appreciate having you as a friend.” I reply, and then hang up the phone.

That weekend I have an amazing time in my wood working shop finishing up a beautiful cedar table. I’ve just learned a new carving technique to inlay a chess board in the middle of it. During the final polishing steps Jessica calls me up.

“Hey, James, I’ve thought a lot about what you said, and you’re right, maybe we aren’t right for each other.” She says.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” I say. “Closure is a good thing.”

“I think so, would you feel comfortable coming by later today to do this in person?” She asks.

“Nah, I’m really just fine now. You take care now Jessica.” I say.

“Um, okay.” She says awkwardly.

“Bye.” I say.

James spent the rest of his life being single and pursuing a flourishing handmade carpentry career.

Short Stories

On the count of three, everyone switch bodies

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An alien visits earth, and reshuffles everyone’s consciousness into different bodies every twenty-four hours.

Giant red floating numbers appear on my eyelids at noon, and decrease from ten to one. The alien said the first jump would be easy. I don’t think any jump would be easy. I’m a towering male body builder. The odds of me getting someone whose better physically fit than me are basically zero. I had called my girlfriend earlier, and we had agree to skype as soon as the switch is made. The alien had instructed everyone to be seated for the change, and I saw several rebellious coworkers forced into sitting positions. Good, at least I won’t find myself on a tight rope or barreling down the highway at 90 miles an hour

2….1… I’m at an office, I’m sitting in a cubicle with a computer on in front of me. There’s a word document open, and my hands are on the keyboard. My vision looks dirty, and there’s something on my face. I reach up and touch my face, glasses. I notice there is a periodic table of elements on the side of my cube, and to my utter amazement I recognize most of the elements. Wow! I must be smart! I found it reassuring to know that you also got the latent knowledge of whoever I was transported to.

I take a look at what I’m writing, and see instructions. ‘You are a research associate at a well known lab. Your job is to perform column chromatography to purify proteins. Today you are running an experiment on ion exchange chromatography to investigate the possibility of a negative capture of the remaining contaminants.

Hmmm, a negative capture, it made sense. The protein was over 90% purity, so some polishing should be all that’s necessary, and we’ve had good yields with ion exchange in the past. I was smart! This was cool. I see he’s got another word file open. I tab over to it to find the printed instructions for what I was to do. I scroll through and notice it’s just like yesterday’s, but we’re investigating a higher salt concentration in the wash step. Was this what science people did all day? Think in really big words that not many people understood, I could get used to this.

Then I remember my girlfriend and open Skype.

“Hey babe.” A female park ranger on the other end says. There’s a forest behind her. I’m lucky she ended up in a park ranger with a good cell phone plan. “Where are you?” She asks. I can clearly see the sign for the park behind her. It isn’t that far from where I lived before the switch

It’s a good question, I check my surroundings. There aren’t any windows. I consider asking someone, but they’re probably just as confused as me. I look back at my computer screen and my new science brain suggests using the internet. A quick google search later I have the answer.

“I’m only about thirty miles south of you.” I feel an itching sensation in my head. What is that? Am I sick? The itching directs me to some paperwork nearby. Oh, it’s my work ethic telling me to get going.

“I’m in a Biology lab sweetie, and I need to get back to work. There’s science to do!” She smiles.

“Okay babe, call me again tonight, and we’ll recap the day.”

“K, ttyl sweetie.” I say. She says goodbye, and I grab the paperwork to head into the lab.

It’s my first time working in an actual lab, or even seeing one. It looks kind of boring. Most of the equipment looks like it belongs in a kitchen, until my science brain shows me how things are linked. This ordinary looking plastic bag holds a solution that has been carefully refined over years. It is used in conjunction with the sand looking substance to pull out a protein from a blend of bacteria. That protein is then used to combat deadly flesh eating bacteria.

I marvel at the intricacies within the brain I’m occupying. It’s so incredibly interconnected. Atomic structures reveal truths about large macromolecules. The large macromolecules in turn perform precise actions dictated by thermodynamic equations. Those thermodynamic equations also apply to the function of the macromolecules, and the macromolecules are impossibly numerous, and all affect each other. This science brain studied a great deal about channel proteins in his graduate school, and I spend an hour just tracing the pathway of the protein and how it interacts with the other proteins.

I leave the day lost in thought, and instinctively drive to my host’s rather nice house. I immediately boot up skype, where my girl tells me about her day.

“It was a blessing and a curse.” She tells me. “On the one hand this body isn’t as good as the one I have.” My girl is/was a model. “But there’s also less need for one. There aren’t many people out here, and the few that come by aren’t interested in my looks. They value the knowledge I have, and we bond over the shared experience of loving nature. Speaking of nature, there’s so much of it here! I spent half the day walking in silence, just listening to the sounds of wind, water, and animals. I’m used to the hustle and bustle of modeling, and this is so serene.” I’m happy for her, and share my day. All in all, it’s a strange experience, but the new way we both have begun to look at the world has made us both happier and more well rounded people.

“I want to thank the owner of this body.” I tell my girl. “But I can’t think of how. The odds of me meeting him again are basically zero.”

“Do what I’m going to do.” My girl says. “Help out their body. Go for a jog or do some workout. Eat healthy, and then leave a note for the next person to help them take care of the body.”

“But what good will that do if he’s never going to get this body back?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Maybe he’ll never know. Maybe he’ll get the body back, but at the very least you’ll know that you’ve passed on the positive experience to someone else.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that.” I say, and I do, going for an extra bracing run, and before I go to bed I use the smart guy’s phone to send him an email that will arrive at 12:01 tomorrow, leaving instructions and information for the next person.

Over the coming months I shift many times. The shifts become increasingly varied, sending me further and further away, to more and more different people. I get to experience other languages, much younger bodies, and much older bodies. I get to be an artist, a politician, a lawyer, a plumber, a doctor, a farmer, and many other jobs. Each job teaches me something different, and I honor their gift with one of my own.

Mostly people do the same things. They either leave strong memories with information, or written messages close to hand. Every day at noon there’s a sort of ceremony that develops where people introduce each other and talk about their own experiences.

Occasionally you get a body with serious problems. A kid with suicide issues, an adult whose homeless, an elderly person who’s terminally ill. For those people all you can do is just leave an extra strong message of encouragement, and make an effort to leave them better than you found them.

Perhaps every 50th shift or so I get to revisit my body, and I’m always delighted with what I find. I’ll have started a book, or my car will be fixed. Sometimes I’ll have job offers from places I did not apply to.

There develops an international sense of brotherhood as well all come to accept that we need to treat ourselves and others with the utmost respect, because the body you harm could be become your own.

Short Stories

Apocalypse cancelled

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“Scientists are now reporting they did the calculations in English instead of metric. We actually have another twenty thousand years to live.” The news report had come in at 12:07, seven minutes after the world was supposed to end.

No government had survived the ensuing chaos. Every last politician had defaced themselves beyond repair, those that weren’t lynched and hung that is, and the militaries of the world had taken the opportunity to fire every last round of non-nuclear ammunition that they had. After all, the world was supposed to go out with a bang right?

The world had now divided into three factions, the people who had lost everything, the people who had. prepared properly because they knew it wouldn’t, and the people who had gotten all the money and resources from the people who had panicked.

The scientists and religious which made up the second group were an odd mix. There were skeptical scientists who had done the math themselves, and realized they weren’t going to die, and the very religious who had either not partied relentlessly, or had known through some religious dogma they would be fine. These two groups now found themselves working closely together as they were the protagonists of the post-apocalyptic world.

The victims of the apocalypse were those that had committed horrible crimes, or had squandered their wealth needlessly. Most of the world was penniless, or on the run from the families of those they had killed or robbed. Mostly penniless though, so much food and gas had been depleted in the final hours, and the people had been shuffled all over going to their dream vacation spots to die. People woke up in countries they did not know the language of, and no way to get home. Borders meant nothing anymore, no remained inside the countries to enforce the borders, since they were now scattered and broke.

Which left the winners of the fake apocalypse, those that now finding themselves drunk with power and stuffed to bursting with ill-gotten gains. It was the gangs, the hardened criminals, and the shrewd couple of businesses who had wagered the world would not end. The gangs had banded together to protect themselves from last minute police or opposing gang retaliations. The hardened criminals had all sprung from jail, and spent the night amassing stockpiles of everything they had missed, and the businessmen had made highly illegal deals to consolidate the world’s power.

They formed a hierarchy, the businesses contacting the gangs to enforce their new laws, and the gangs hiring the criminals for their resources and illegal knowledge. The businesses spread outward, bringing more and more gangs under their belt, and utilizing their company resources to spread far and wide. A burger chain took the east coast of the United States by storm. A famous rapper dominated the west coast, and the middle was controlled by a mess of smaller steakhouses and land owners.

Smaller island nations like Japan, Iceland, and New Zealand were taken over by an airliner who used their fleet to land gangs at key supply points to control the flow of resources. Australia’s inhabitants had all either died or gone into the bush. Africa was overrun with medical corporations. The middle east was taken by oil. Some small business owner who had gotten hold of nuclear weapons was now running India. Cartels ran Central and South America, and Europe had splintered into hundreds of small warring states.

The Vatican gathered to it all the world’s scientists and religious leaders, using its influence, and the Swiss guards, to control Italy. They rallied to the call of any people who could reach them to call for help. They invented new planes and boats for rapid international travel, and new crops for food distribution. The religious institutions used their experience in aid delivery around the world to make sure the supplies got into the right hands, and the scientists saw they had the means to deliver them.

It is now a slow battle with the church and scientific community fighting inch by inch to take back civilization. They pray every night before they sleep that the smaller disjointed corporate states do not band together and wipe them out.

Short Stories

Love is experienced for the first time in a hundred years

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“I don’t know. I just saw her the other day, and there was this light flying sensation, a bit like when you’re dizzy, but without the bad part of feeling unbalanced. I looked at her and things were just right you know?”

“No I don’t.” My father replied. “We did away with that nonsense a long time ago, and we had your brain checked just six months ago. Besides, what are you going to tell Jane?”

“I don’t know father, and it doesn’t make any sense to me either. Promise you won’t tell anyone?” Father scratched his head and looked to be fighting with himself.

“I’ve known you to be a good lad Jason. So I shall keep your secret, but please don’t betray my trust.”

“Thank you father.” I then leave and immediately walk outside to the park where I saw her yesterday, perhaps I will see her again. I won’t say anything of course, but just to feel that again, to see if it really was love. I sit on the same bench I saw her earlier for an hour, and nothing. Two hours go by, still nothing. I spend half the day sitting on a bench, and still she doesn’t come.

It was foolish of me to think she would. Why would she come this way again? I had better go home. I get up to leave, and then I see her.

The feeling comes back five fold, and I am immobilized by it. I cannot help but be enraptured by her. She walks by like an angel, or something out of a dream. Everything in me screams to go talk to her, and everything else screams at me not to. I don’t move a hair, until she rounds a bend in the path, and then she disappears. I know then what I must do. I pick up my phone and call Jane.

“Jane. It’s Jason.” I hurriedly say, trying to end this conversation as quick as I can so I can be after her.

“Hey sweetie, what’s going on?” Her use of the word stings a bit given what I know I’m about to do.

“Jane. I’m sorry, it’s over. I’m in love with another woman. I haven’t done anything yet, but I’m about to, so I thought I would end this to keep us both honest people. I can’t explain it Jane, but there it is.” There are several moments of silence before, in a cracked voice comes back over the line.

“I understand Jason. I feel the same way about you, so if you feel that way about her, then you have to go after her.” Remorse fills me, but the butterflies are still there. I want to say something to make it better, but the line goes dead.

I return my focus to the girl and rush after her. She had rounded another two turns in the path, but fate guides me to her.

“I’m sorry.” I say as I approached her. “I love you. I don’t know why, but I do, and I had to tell you. I just broke up with my fiancé to tell you.” Her mouth works wordlessly for a few moments, and then she asks me a few questions.

“Do I know you?”

“No.”

“We’ve never met before?”

“No.”

“But you broke up with your fiancé?”

“Yes.”

“And you feel love for me?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Then you’re an idiot. Love is putting other first. Your fiancé put you first when she let you go, and you’ve just proven you feel nothing for me but infatuation. Did she feel love for you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you better call her and pray you didn’t just ruin the first true romantic love in a hundred years.”

Short Stories

With great knowledge comes great responsibility

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A man is granted infinite knowledge.

Of course! The third carbon on the benzyl amide was the key to it all! My doctoral thesis had just become a snap. I would still have to do the experiment to prove it, but using my infinite knowledge would certainly stream line the process, and already knowing the outcome, I could write my thesis anytime.

It had come to me in a dream, there was something about a great cosmic choice, and upon waking he suddenly knew. To celebrate I decided to take myself out to lunch, the usual Chinese restaurant would do.

As I joyjully hopped into my car I realized that my rear brakes would require replacement in about three thousand miles, that was good to know. I discovered my car would no longer be economical to maintain in about another forty thousand miles. Knowledge was wonderful!

Things started to take a dark turn as I arrived at a stop light. I know the car next to me is going to suffer a terrible crash that will leave the driver on life support for life. This knowledge hits me like a slap to the face. I need to tell the driver. I roll down my window and try to yell at the driver, but the light turns green, and I’m in the wrong lane. The car quickly speeds out of sight to its fate, and a honking horn behind Francis’ sends him in the opposite direction.

“It’s okay.” I tell myself. There are going to be some downsides too. I look at another car driving next to me, and know the girl is going to be proposed to soon. This brings a smile to my face, until I also realize their subsequent divorce in six years will ruin their two children’s lives, driving one to become a homeless alcoholic after he drops out of med school with 100K in debt.

I drive to the Chinese restaurant without looking at anything but inanimate objects. Those are all fairly dull, giving me nothing but what they’re made of and when they’ll break mostly.

When I arrive at the restaurant I grab a menu and dash to a booth quickly. I bury my head in a menu, and when the waiter comes to take my order I quickly spurt out my order, and go back to studying the menu, which I insist on keeping. It is actually a rather pleasant menu, and I learn much about the rich history of China by studying the items.

“I’ll have the lobster.” A girl in the booth over says. She’s allergic to lobster and will suffer a lethal allergic reaction. I instantly know. What should I do? I can’t tell her, she will never believe me, and I certainly don’t want to talk to her lest she should find out all sorts of horrible things. I stew and stew, ignoring the waiter when my own meal of chicken with cashews is brought.

The girl’s own food comes out and I instantly know what to do. I run up to the waiter and knock the plate out of his hand.

“What are you doing!” Both the waiter and the girl shout.

“I’m, I’m sorry.” I say. I want to explain myself, but it would do no good. I just have to stop her from ordering more lethal food.

“Now what am I going to eat?” The girl demands.

“Um, here.” I grab my own chicken and cashews, neither of which she is allergic too. “Take my food.” The girl snatches it from my hands quickly, and sits down to eat without a word.

“Here, this if for my meal, her meal, and your trouble.” I tell the waiter, giving him a rather large tip on top of the cost of both meals. He takes the money, and I know he isn’t thinking pleasant thoughts about me, but his anger is soothed. I quickly move to leave the restaurant, but before I do I look at the girl. I know her name is Sarah.

Sarah, I repeat the name to myself over and over again so it is at the forefront of my thoughts. I may be doomed to know everyone’s fate, and misery, but at least I can save a few, and I must hold onto those few to get my by.

Short Stories

Aliens give humans the silent treatment, talk to whales instead

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“So we have determined the aliens are not whales themselves yes?” The president asked the secretary of defense.

“Correct mister president. Several flybys have confirmed they are humanoid in nature.” The president had called all the cabinet members together to solve this problem.

“We have also determined that they are as of yet conducting no hostile action toward the whales, nor to any surrounding aquatic or human life.” The secretary of defense continued.

“Then what in the blue blazes are they doing?” The president asked.

“William Shatner hasn’t gone missing has he?” The secretary of state asked.

“No mister secretary, neither has Leonard Nemoy or any other of the original cast. We’re still pinning down the locations of the reboot stars.” The defense secretary said.

“Are they mating with the whales?” The secretary of education asked.

“Arne get out of here!” The president yelled. “You’re not turning this into another meeting about sex education.” The secret service escorted the secretary of education out.

An aid suddenly burst into the room.

“Mister president, we’ve received a communication from the aliens!”

“What?” Every man in the room said.

“Let’s have it, what did they say?”

The aid excitedly looked at his piece of paper.

“They said, please stop sending those loud jets, they’re interfering with the tenth millennial interspecies symphony. We just got the killer whales to stop eating the pilot whales, and we’d like to get started.”