They traipse along with melting crayons, flotsam at the foot of the beach.
“Oh, to be a wave carrying jellyfish to the edge, where the salt meets the air” said one to the other.
“Why’d you want to do that?”
A query rose from the suspicion of the ludicrous statement thrown into the air waves.
“I severely dislike jellyfish” was the response.
“Why, what did they ever do to you?”
Awestruck, this was his reply: “What do you mean? What did they do to me?”…
He had developed the distaste of Jellyfish at a young age. Twelve to be exact. He couldn’t even remember what exactly the crime had been that turned him against those delightful and sometimes poisonous tentacle bearing beasts. In fact, when confronted on his abhorrence towards them, his answer was usually in the form of some kind of stereotype.
“They take up too much of the ocean.”
“Those damn opportunistic predators, eating whatever they come across.”
“Pretentious tentacle bearing fucks.”
“Save some plankton for the whales… Bastards.”
Indeed, the list went on, mostly in the form of something similar to the above insults. His hatred had become a product of his ignorance multiplied by his youthful experience (diminished as it was). Did he really even hate jellyfish anymore?
“Do you listen to yourself?” another query from his friend.
“Yes, of course…” the irritated retort.
“Pretentious fucks, I hate them all”…
“But you haven’t even said what they’ve done to cause these feelings of malice.” a justified response from his friend.
“I don’t need to prove myself to you.”
“Are you siding with them?”
“How dare you! Are you insinuating that I am lying?”
Brandishing a dagger, he smote his friend. Spite had taken control of him. He went empty with rage. His friend was now dead; the life had been taken from him just because of the jellyfish.
“It’s your fault. You damn tentacle bearing demons.”
“I hate you!” there was no reasoning with this logic.
Because of the jellyfish, his friend was dead. They caused him to whirl into a fit of rage.
“You’ve done this to yourself.” a voice from nowhere, invading his eardrums.
“Stop, you don’t know that. You don’t know anything.”
“You killed your friend over your petty angers.” it was that voice again.
“Stop. Stop right now.” nobody was on the beach.
“I’ll get revenge.”
Throwing off his clothing, and running into the water, he broke the waves. Diving, swimming, dagger in mouth, he swam towards the smack. It was then that he felt the cold of a thousand tentacles binding him, constricting him.
He went blank again…
But this time it was eternal.