A whale of a tale

One of the things that I like to do is walk along the beach at night. It's very relaxing. I like feeling the soft sand between my toes as the water washes over them repeatedly. Unfortunately, when I got to one of my favorite spots tonight, I noticed a crowd.

I parked the car and walked over to see what the commotion was all about. It didn't look like a party crowd. I saw a news crew and a cop car. Did somebody die?, I thought uncomfortably, but I was curious nonetheless. I didn't see any ambulances, but some people in the crowd seemed to be crying. When I reached them, I came upon a long line of yellow tape and some people telling the crowd to stand back. I looked further out and saw some other people with flashlights moving around in the water.

Did somebody drown, perhaps? A floater? I wondered. I turned to the lady standing next to me and asked her, "What's going on?"

"You didn't see the news?", she asked.

"Not today," I replied.

"Oh, well," she said, "a whale beached itself. They didn't have the equipment to take care of it. It's too big; 8 tons they said. There's no tank big enough for it. They couldn't tow it out because it was too big and too sick. Poor creature."

"Oh," I said. What else could I say?

"They killed it," said another voice that surprised me.

I turned to see the owner of that voice, a middle aged man in shorts and a tie dyed shirt.

"I'm sorry?," I asked, not quite sure if I had heard him right.

"They killed it," he repeated, "The wildlife folks said it was in a lot a lot of pain, too sick to be forced back out into the open ocean. So they gave the whale some sort of lethal injection."

Only in Texas, I thought. Not only is poison used to execute criminals but apparently, it's also used to euthanize beached whales. I looked back out towards the small group in the water. I could barely make out a large shape in the darkness. What I could see was that it was big, about the size of a city bus.

I returned to my car and drove another twenty minutes til I arrived at the pier, another favorite beach hangout spot. I parked the car and then sat down at a nearby bench to take off my shoes. I heard another car parking behind me. I turned to see the driver, an older man who waved at me. I nodded my head and took off my shoes. The driver got out and stood next to me, saying, "Nice night."

"It sure is," I answered and I stood up, shoes in hand and started walking away from the lighted pier. The soft sand pushed between my toes. The water was little chilly at first when it touched my feet. But as the waves continued to wash over my feet, the water became warm and pleasant. The farther I walked away from the pier, the darker it got. But that was fine, as the partly cloudy skies let in enough moonlight and starlight to illuminate my path.

Now, Texas beaches aren't like Hawaii; there're no coral reefs and the water isn't as blue, but it's clean--well, with the exception of the newly decomposing whale. Still, it's some of the cleanest beaches I've seen compared to the East or West Coast. Even better, no sharks like the ones in Florida beaches.

After walking for half an hour, I made it to the wave breakers, where I proceeded to sit myself and set my shoes down. A light breeze was blowing. I leaned back and looked toward parts of the heavens visible in the cloud break. Lulled by the sweet, hypnotic sounds of the waves softly breaking on the shore, I became lost in my thoughts. Daydreaming, reminiscing, and wondering about everything and nothing at all. I thought about my life, my experiences and dreams; about the people I know; and even that whale, wondering if it lived a great life and what incredible things it has seen in it's journey in the vast mysteries of the seas.

After a while, the hard rocks were starting to make my back sore, prompting me to stand up, stretch, and take some deep breaths. The magic of the night was dispelled by the headlights of an approaching vehicle. The car parked, and out stepped the same driver I had seen by the pier. Probably trying to get to a quiet place like me, I thought. He smiled and waved. I waved back, then bent down to pick up my shoes and continued my walk past the wave breakers, heading towards solitude.

A short while later, I was lost in my thoughts once more when headlights appeared from behind. I stopped and turned towards the approaching vehicle, making sure it wasn't going to hit me. The car slowed down, then stopped by me. Guess who was driving? The same fella from the pier and wave breakers. He asked, "Are you lost?"

"No," I replied.

"Did you need a ride somewhere?, " he asked.

"No, thanks," I answered. I was about to continue walking when he said,

"Have you ever done any modeling before?"

I said, "Excuse me?"

He repeated, "Have you ever done any modeling before?" I wasn't sure what to say, except this guy was starting to give me the creeps. But he continued, "I'm a talent scout for a modeling agency." My bullsh*t sensor started to alarm. The guy continued, "You've got a great look", this was true enough, I thought to myself. Still, I had my doubts about this guy.

He said, "I've got a card here," he reached into his pocket,"With your looks, you can make $50 a foto session," he paused, holding out his card, "and up to $300 a session if you don't mind doing nudes."

I looked at him, disbelieving what he had just said before I replied shortly, "No thanks. Not interested," and I turned and walked back towards the pier. I was disgusted! I was absolutely furious!

When I got home, I took a shower, but I was still fuming afterwards. How dare he! Who did he think I was? some cheap, crack whore trolling the beaches, turning tricks? I was deeply offended!




....Only $300?!!! The industry standard is $1000 a session; $4000, for new models! The nerve of this bastard trying to shortchange me!