A true story, I kid you not - of chicks be crazy: Twoz in the year of 2015 and I was in my study, which is perched high on a hill overlooking the South Pacific. On occasion I would glance up from my cyber space thingy to watch the whales go by, and to contemplate the world and the waves and the existence of mermaids, as men do from time to time . It was in one of those moments of retrospect that I noticed a commotion of fins not 50 yards from shore and the water a foam of red where a battle royale of titans raged just beyond the breakers. There, a mother Humpback and her calf were under siege from Killer Whales, the calf mortally wounded and the mother desperate in its valiant attempt to rescue.
An act of nature rarely seen I called to Consuela to come witness the tragic event. The following conversation followed:
"My god, Barg, you have to go and safe that poor baby from those brutes," she said, horrified at the spectacle below.
"Are you crazy?" I responded, rolling my eyes with the sarcasm it deserved.
"But you've got to do something," she persisted.
"Very well, Madam," I said with false bravado and as much sarcasm as I could muster. "Then quickly fetch my largest hunting knife and my trunks and I shall battle my way through the rollers and shark infested bloody waters and I shall rescue said calf from the leviathans of the deep." The sea was rough that day, my friends .
"You're not going, are you?"
"Nope!"
. It was in one of those moments of retrospect that I noticed a commotion of fins not 50 yards from shore and the water a foam of red where a battle royale of titans raged just beyond the breakers. There, a mother Humpback and her calf were under siege from Killer Whales, the calf mortally wounded and the mother desperate in its valiant attempt to rescue.
