título sucks, I know, but it's the best I could come up with. :-/
I might write another story soon, too. If I haev the time. I wanna write a Skipper/Marlene/Blowhole story. Insane, I know. :P
And I believe I've officially become Blowhole's number-one fan. On this website, at least. ^^;
Oh, and the bit where he's beached and a aleatório guy puts his kid on Blowhole's back? That's based on a true story. I heard it at a Marine Mammal Stranding Network (they're basically a golfinho hospital) informational meeting. The guy put his kid on the golfinho and took pictures, not even realizing the golfinho was sick and dying. Sadly, the stress of the situation caused the golfinho to die. :( Some of the other things that have happened to stranded dolphins have made me even angrier, but I'll spare ye the details. ^^
~~~
The peixe amused him with their stupidity. Mindless creatures, driven only por instinct. Eat, sleep, poop, and make babies, was all they thought about. They were so inferior to him.
With a single flap of his flukes, he’d halved the distance between them. They were quick to slide down his gullet; delicious. It was always pleasant to briefly go back to the water and hunt for peixe as he had in the old days with his pod.
Blowhole surfaced briefly, floating in place. It seemed so long ago, the days with his pod. Before he’d met that pinguim nemesis of his. Before he’d lost his eye and replaced it with an invention of his own. Before he’d decided to flood every pitiful acre of land and return the Earth to its pristine, ocean-covered form.
Ah, but those had been such peaceful days. The safety of his pod: his mother, his father, his siblings, his lovely Diane (his betrothed). The only worries they’d ever had were run-ins with other pods (territorial battles were always such a pain in the flukes) and the occasional great white shark. The ocean had been so peaceful then. He’d even enjoyed interacting with humans. Even now, he could remember their gentle hands on his melon and rostrum. It’d felt quite nice.
Then the humans changed. One por one, his pod members died. Harpoons. Long lines dotted with hooks. Nets. He was left alive, drifting the currents, his mind slowly leaving him. He’d beached himself at one point. The humans hadn’t reacted too kindly then, either. One male placed his bezerro on his back. What had he been thinking! Blowhole grew angry at the memory; there he lay, dying of exhaustion and heatstroke, and this human’s reaction had been to place a child on his back??? As though the experience had not been stressful enough!
Helpful humans finally came. They took him to a pool and healed him. Then they’d deemed him ‘non-releasable’ (something about his mind not being in good condition; they’d certainly been right about that) and sent him to an aquarium. The same aquarium where he had lived.
The mad golfinho chuffed in irritation at the thought of Skipper. The dia Skipper had torn his eye out was the dia Blowhole had tried to teach his trainer a lesson. The trainer had refused to listen to him; no matter how much he ordered her to, she refused to give him the fish! It was as though she wanted him to do something first! So he decided to take matters into his own flippers. He grabbed her wrist in his mouth and pulled her into the pool. He pushed her to the bottom and held her there. THIS certainly would teach her not to withhold comida from him!
Skipper had been part of the ‘penguin parade’ brigade. The humans would escort them on park observation routes, so that they could observe the aquarium and ensure that it was safe. The two had never liked each other before; and after that fateful day, their dislike became pure hatred.
Skipper had been on one of these marches when Blowhole had punished the trainer. Skipper, not understanding why Blowhole was doing what he was doing in the first place, had broken away from the group, pomba into the tank, and swam towards him at full speed.
The last thing Blowhole remembered for a few hours was a sharp pinguim beak being buried into his right eye.
Blowhole made his escape that day; his eye (or what was left of it) bleeding and a death sentence on his head (for some reason, the humans wanted to euthanize him for punishing his trainer). The golfinho tank had been situated close to the shore; one courageous leap, and he was in the ocean.
From there, he found as much scrap metal as he could from the bottom of the sea. He then took sanctuary in an old, unused pipeline…and he began to build.
He built himself a replacement eye. He built himself a device to allow him to travel on land. He built himself an army of lobsters. He built himself a secret laboratory. He built himself a plan for vengeance.
Mankind had been the cause for his downfall, he’d realized. They’d murdered his pod, they hadn’t rushed to help him as he lay dying on the beach, they’d wanted to kill him for his behavior at the aquarium. They’d ruined his life. He wanted to ruin theirs. Flooding the world seemed like the perfect way to do so. Not only would mankind suffer and drown, but the seas would be expanded and he would have free reign over the world. He would even become world ruler.
World Emperor Doctor Blowhole. It had a nice ring to it.
Blowhole had had enough of his pool session for now. Although he was far less clumsy exiting his pool and getting onto his scooter (or, as he preferred to think of it as, his personal transportation device; ‘scooter’ sounded far too frivolous for a future world emperor) now than he had been when he was younger, it was still a difficult maneuver. It was understandable: a twelve-foot-long, 1400 pound golfinho has trouble getting around on land. Even when he has built up enough strength to hold himself upright on a personal transportation device.
Situating himself, he headed off to visit with his captive. Why had he taken a captive, something he’d never done before? Because this captive was Skipper’s best friend.
Every single one of Blowhole’s former plans had been thwarted por Skipper and his team of penguins. Even recently, some of his plans had been thwarted completely por accident por those meddlesome birds. So he had simply set a trap, using Skipper’s best friend as the bait. Trap the penguins, freedom to rule the world.
Blowhole smirked. The realm of land had never been kind to him. But they would soon realize that he was far too intelligent to forget the pain. Ooh, yes, they were all going to pay dearly. From the humans that had led him down this path to the penguins that blocked his road to world domination.
They all amused him with their stupidity.
