Open letter from adult killer whales.
Sorry about the rudders. Mostly it is just adolescent fun. You know, how your teenagers with new licenses like to smash mailboxes with their friends? Like that. We’d replace your rudder, but we can’t. Because we are whales.
On the other fin, like all those coming of age, they are kind of pissed off. They get tired of us old ones saying how quiet it used to be. Now it is just noisy, all the time. And too hot as well, as long as we are at it. Used to be you could keep in touch over miles. Now we barely get any coverage. And the pollution! What the hell is the matter with you? It’s not like we climb onto your continents we used to roam, take a massive shit, then hit the waves. Stop shitting in our garden, please.
While we are having this nice talk, could you please stop killing us, or our cousins? Not how you make friends, honestly.
You know what, on second thought, fuck your rudders. Maybe the kids are right.
With cautious regard, and totally not your obedient servants,
P.S. We know where your cables are.