One drunken evening, many many moons ago, I had a night full of relations with a "whale." She wasn't an actual whale as she did not have any fins nor fluke, but she did have lungs and she was "within range" on the weight side of things. I didn't perform a DNA test on her (although I did attempt to leave some DNA), so correctly identifying her species was a bit off and my eyesight was fuzzy to say the least. I think she was a Dwarf Sp.erm Whale, but at times behaved like a PIGmy Sp.erm Whale, although those are toothy whales and I never once felt any teeth, leading to me hypothesizing that she must be a filter feeder. She kind of smelt odd as well....like a woman who wears too much perfume to cover up halitosis....or worse. I can't confirm, but I believe she was actually a Minke Whale....a stinky Minke Whale.
It was not one of my better conquests. I would not use the terms "generational" or "elite" to describe my motion in that ocean that evening, nor would I use those words to describe her appearance or performance. To be fair, I was kinda like one of those sad Orcas that evening....you know, the kind whose dorsal fin isn't standing completely upright; more just leaning limply to the side. It was a textbook case of whisky fin. No matter how much she tried providing stimulation to my drunken dorsal fin, her baleen's moist touch just wasn't enough to create a rigid enough surface to harpoon that beast.
After several (unsuccessful) attempts to mount, I had given up mentally. Like a good cetacean, I asked for one more attempt at baleen to dorsal resucitation, to which she obliged but said "if you fall asleep one more time, I'm leaving." I heard that as my cue to start snoring....and I did. That young PIGmy sp/erm whale migrated off to another section of the Deep Blue, never to be seen again.
