high tide

Low tide. A whale washed ashore. Baleen I believe. Dead and already rotting but funny thing was when the first layer of blubber gave way we all saw it was filled with candy. The smell of the children swarming around was terrible. One of them, prying his little fingers inside near a flipper, pulled out a folded up leg that stretched for at least a dozen feet. He didn’t give it a second look as he went back to scooping up the tootsie rolls and red vines that poured out seemingly without end. Another little one, a girl, put starfish in the whale’s eyes and said to herself “Show me.” The rest danced around without dancing.

High tide stole our whale.

Sometimes “Why not?” isn’t good enough.