ALL THE WHALE MEAT

1 – Sydney My Love

“No!” I scream, trying to break free from the grip of the two men. “You can’t take her from me!”

The man holding my right arm lets out a hyena’s bark of laughter.

“Should have paid up then,” he says.

All I can do is watch as my Porsche, the last thing I truly love, is hoisted onto the back of Big Ben’s Friendly Repo Company. My body goes limp, and I sink to my knees. I stare down at the hem of my Egyptian Cotton dressing gown dragging in the dust.

The two men let me go as a third, wider man in grime-streaked overalls waddles over.

“Please,” I beg, clasping my hands together in pleading subjugation. “Don’t take Sweeney away from me. She’s all I have left.”

He sneers down at me. “Who?” he asks, his Arizona accent thick.

“Sydney Sweeney,” I splutter, pointing at my car.

“Like the actress?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. A sly grin spreads across his wide face. “Oh, I see it now. Sleek, slim and a great behind.” He refocuses his attention on me. “Can’t wait to go for a ride inside her.”

I scramble to my feet, repressing the rising rage.

“Listen—” I glance down at his name tag. “Big Ben, we’re both reasonable men.” He scratches his crotch and spits a gob of yellow phlegm onto the ground. I tactically turn my grimace into the award-winning smile I’ve cultivated over the last few decades. “We can work this out. All I need is a few days to get the money.”

Big Ben sighs. “Listen, I can tell you’re going through…” he twirls his wrist as if conjuring the rest of his sentence. “Some stuff. But you must understand.” He puts a greasy hand on my shoulder, and I fight the compulsion to slap it away. “Sweeney belongs to me now.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “Capiche?”

My fingers curl into shaking fists. Sensing my irritation, he widens his stance.

“Do we got a problem here?”

I feel the corner of my eye twitching.

I took a few jiu-jitsu classes last year because I thought it was the same dojo Mark Zuckerberg attended. It wasn’t. Still, I’m good at risk evaluation, and one look at Big Ben’s cauliflower ears is enough to melt my confidence.

“No,” I say, sighing.

Big Ben nods. “Just as well,” he says. “Don’t wanna get blood on my new Carhartt.”

“Those are new?” I murmur under my breath.

“Yep,” he replies. “With the AI bubble bursting, I decided to treat myself. Maybe you Silicon types shouldn’t have put all your money into fake shit.”

“Please.” I’ve never begged in my fifty-two years of life, but I clasp my hands together and stop shy of falling to my knees. “Is there nothing I can do?”

Big Ben scratches the back of his neck. “Look, I’m a fair guy. If you can come up with the money by tomorrow, you can have Sweeney back. He turns and lumbers over to his truck. “Or what’s left of her.”

As the last residual of adrenaline ebbs away, my hangover hits me with its full force. Until I heard the rumble of the repo truck, I’d been asleep after a three-day bender. Now it feels like the archangel Gabriel himself has descended from the heavens to deliver a backhand of fiery consequences.

Drawn by the commotion, a few of my neighbours mull around outside their houses, taking in the pathetic spectacle that has become my life. I wipe my brow. God, it’s hot. Sweat drips down my face, congealing with the dirt to become a thick, muddy mixture.

At least things can’t get any worse.

“Jimmy Wonder?” A chipper voice asks.

I look up to see a young surfer dude dressed in a delivery outfit holding a pizza box. I don’t remember ordering from Ziggy’s Pizza Bonanza, but I’m glad that the intoxicated version of myself had the foresight to.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say automatically.

Saliva pools in my mouth and with it the taste of vomit. I really hope that I ordered a triple pepperoni deluxe. The surfer dude opens the box, and instead of a delicious doughy circle of grease and cheese, he takes out a brown envelope and hands it to me.

“You’ve been served,” he says curtly.

I throw the cursed package onto the ground.

“Fuck you and your cheap car!” I shout as he gets into his Honda Civic.

“At least I have a car, asshole!” he replies, skidding off.

I turn around, heart racing.

“Fuck you too, Ned!” My neighbour, who looks nearly identical to his cartoon counterpart, points towards himself, his brow furrowed. “Did I stutter?”

He goes back to pretending to trim his near-dead hedge.  I wipe my drenched brow, looking up.

“And fuck you!” I shout, raising both middle fingers to the sky.  “You celestial piece of smug shit!”

The sun does not respond. I catch the outline of a figure standing in my periphery and whirl around, both middle fingers up.

“And especially fuck yo—” I stop mid-sentence, red-hot rage freezing into a cold realisation.

The man staring back at me wears a dirty dressing gown, sports a haircut two decades too young for him, and is marred by prominent crow’s feet. I’m looking at my own reflection in the window of the rented moving van.

I hunch my shoulders and slump back to my foreclosed McMansion, heat pounding behind my eyes.

I slam the door behind me as I enter, place my back against the imported mahogany, and sink to the ground. I clutch my head in my hands, digging my fingernails into my scalp until I can feel indents forming. They’re all against me. I’ve worked so hard, and everyone wants to screw me over. Please God, I don’t need much. Just a couple hundred grand to get my life back together.

“No!” I declare, slapping myself in the head. “That’s loser talk, and Jimmy Wonder is no loser!”

My words echo through the mostly empty house. I sigh, letting my head fall back against the door. Hopelessness can only be remedied with an Irish coffee.

My Japanese V60 Pour Over was sold to an unsophisticated redneck from the Facebook Marketplace last week, so I heap three tablespoons of instant coffee into my World’s Most Alpha Dad mug, along with hot water and a generous helping of whisky. I fall onto the couch and take out my brand-new iPhone, grimacing at the long crack that wasn’t there before. I really should have paid an extra fifteen dollars a month for screen insurance.

I open TikTok and, without even allowing the first video to load, I scroll to the next. I didn’t think they would shut off my Wi-Fi after just three missed payments, so dwindling data it is. A few of my usual motivational speakers pop up in my feed, but I’m not in the mood to better myself.

“You need to stop listening to your wife and—”

“There is nothing more patriotic than being an unvaccinated red-blooded—”

Ah yes, numbing bliss.

“Some of nature’s most beautiful creat—”

“Kissing your gym bro on the mouth isn’t necessarily gay but—”

I scroll back to the last video. A tight Asian chick is talking over a green screen of a dark ocean. She yapps on about mysteries of the deep sea in that overly enthusiastic way that young people seem to do these days. I lean back. At least my algorithm knows my type. My free hand wanders down towards my crotch, parting my Versace robe.

“Black Barrier Beach is now home to one of the most fascinating discoveries of the twenty-first century.”

I pause. Black Barrier Beach? That’s like twenty minutes from me. Mary and I used to sneak out there on dates when we were young. I reflexively smack at a pinching sensation in my chest. Probably the angina.

The video cuts to a drone view of a gigantic carcass washed up on a very familiar stretch of dark sand.

“This might be the first recorded beaching of a blue whale in a residential area. This is indeed a rare and majestic phenomenon of nature.”

A spike like an electric current goes off in my sleep-deprived brain.

Rare? Majestic? Nature?

All words that rhyme with money.

“Since it’s a Sunday, the demolition of the body will only begin tomorrow.”

I close the video. I can practically feel the gears turning in my head now that they are lubricated with the oil of inspiration. Black Barrier Beach has been fenced off since the disappearance of ninety-one after all those bathers vanished. But I know a way in.

I type blue whale bone price into Google. The AI overview informs me that genuine, modern blue whale bones cannot be legally bought or sold because blue whales are strictly protected under international blah, blah, blah. I scroll lower.

“Holy shit!” I exclaim, nearly spilling my coffee all over my crotch.

Twelve thousand for a single museum-ready vertebra. I have contacts, and I bet buyers in Southeast Asia won’t give a shit about the endangered species list. They’ll probably grind the bones into natural Viagra.

“Thank you, God!” I shout. “Your most beautiful creation is going to make some limp dick dudes very happy!”

2 – Ready and Whaling

I take a quick shower without soap or shampoo and put on an unironed Tom Ford linen suit. At the door I snap a selfie to put on Tinder. Even with the dark circles under my eyes and the deep furrows in my forehead, I’m looking pretty good. All that racehorse TRT I’ve been injecting is paying its dividends.

I head to the door and automatically reach for the keys to Sydney Sweeney.

“Ah shit,” I mutter, balling my hand into a fist. “I will get you back, baby. I promise.”

Instead, I grab the keys to the moving van. It’ll be better suited to my purpose anyway. As I leave the house, I’m met by the baking heat of the sun. I reach into my breast pocket and pull out my pair of Ray-Ban Clubmasters and put them on. They’re a little scratched, but they’ll do. On my way to the moving van, I scoop up the envelope that fake pizza delivery guy tricked me into accepting.  I know what’s inside, and it’s pure poison written on glossy lawyer paper.

It doesn’t matter — there’s nothing money cannot fix. Once I rebuild my empire, Mary and Beth will come crawling back. Everything will be forgotten and forgiven. I tighten my grip on the keys, feeling the metal bite into my flesh. After all, it was just the one time.

I get into the truck and throw the envelope onto the passenger seat. The engine sputters to life as I turn it on. Piece of shit U-Haul. Can’t wait to get Sweeney back.

I put my shaking hands on the wheel. My head feels like a tribe of pigmies is beating my brain like a bongo. I’m going to need something stronger than coffee. I open my phone and go to my contacts, stopping at Lenny.

Hey compadre, I’m gonna need some baking equipment el pronto.

Three dots appear almost immediately. I smile. Eager today, I see.

Sorry, no can do.

My eyelid twitches, and I smack my face.

Y?

Because I’m at work and you still owe me from last time.

I take a deep, steadying breath — something I learned from one of those yoga classes I had to attend with Mary.

I’m sorry, Lenny. I’ve been going through a lot recently with the divorce and everything. I promise to pay you back, and I’ll give you double for this batch.

I chew my nails while I wait. If I don’t get a bump, I’m going to pass out from exhaustion. The three dots wiggle until finally a reply pops up.

Fine. Where should we meet?

I let out a sigh.

Black Barrier Beach.

3 – Fifty Bucks and a Bucket of Chicken

I need to make several stops, first being an ATM. I try several cards, but most of them are in deep overdraft. I kiss my Hail Mary — an American Express Gold mostly used for buying daily essentials like Starbucks.

Four hundred and twenty-one dollars and ninety-six cents.

I stare at the pathetically small amount. Years of grinding, dozens of businesses, and all I have left is barely enough for an Afternoon at Berry’s All-You-Can-Eat Shrimp and Gentlemen’s Club. It will have to do.

Next, I stop at the hardware store and load up on supplies. I get the cheapest machetes, spades, axes and extra-large plastic drums I can get my hands on. I top it off with some corrosive chemicals Reddit recommended and take the haul to the cashier. She’s a fiery redhead, probably in her mid-twenties. I try my best to fix my hair before getting to the front of the line. She eyes the pile of supplies with suspicion.

“Don’t worry,” I say in a reassuring tone. “I’m not getting rid of any bodies.”

She doesn’t laugh. Instead, with the nonchalance of a minimum wage worker, she rings me up. One hundred and eighty dollars in total. I chew my nails.

“Cash OK?”

With a sigh, she takes my money and hands me back my change. A few months ago, I would have jotted down my phone number on a twenty, but my war chest is already on life support, so without another word, I take everything to the U-Haul.

After single-handedly loading everything inside, I get into the driver’s seat. My head is pounding worse than before. I need something to take the edge off. I rummage through my pockets. There must be something around here. Wait. I peel off my phone case, and a small zip-lock bag falls onto my lap.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

There’s only a dusting of coke left, but at least it’s something. I tap out the last of it on my phone screen, measure out a measly line, and use the bill I was going to give to the cashier to snort it up. It feels like lightning strikes my senses.

“Let’s fucking go!” I shout, speeding off.

The world whizzes by as I head to the last and most important stop. A few years ago, I hired a contractor to finish up my infrared sauna.

“Give them a couple bucks and a taco, and they’ll do literally anything you want,” he told me before asking to be paid in cash.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel as I approach.

“Come on, come on.”

As I round the corner, I catch sight of a group of guys hanging around under the shade of a tree.

“Bingo.”

I pull up and get out of the van. Sticking my thumb and forefinger into my mouth, I try to whistle, but all that comes out is a string of saliva and hot air.

“Listen up, amigos,” I say, slapping the side of the truck. “I need as many guys as possible.”

The group of deeply tanned men approaches, their cracked hands thick with calluses. Haven’t they heard of a skin care routine or sunblock?

“Today, we are going to make history!” I shout. “Who Isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty for twenty bucks and a taco?”

I throw open the back of the van, and they all take a step back.

They give each other cautious glances and speak in Spanish. I really wish that I paid more attention to Dora the Explorer when I was young and less time trying to find topless pictures of Paloma Anderson.

One of them raises his hand.

“Yes,” I say, pointing at him. “Guy in the straw hat.”

“Why do you have so many machetes?” he asks.

“It’s for some light garden work,” I reply nonchalantly.

I point to another guy who’s also raised his hand.

“And why are there plastic containers?”

“That’s to put all the garden refuse into, obviously.”

They nod to one another, seemingly satisfied.

“Alright great if that’s all, get into the—”

“Why do you have so much sulphurous oxide?” I turn to find a man who, unlike the others, is thin, with a neatly trimmed beard and thick spectacles. “That’s not something you would use for garden work.”

My eyelid twitches. “First off, you didn’t raise your hand, so I don’t need to answer your question. Second, do you want twenty bucks or not?”

They murmur to each other.

“We want fifty bucks and a bucket of chicken,” Four Eyes says.

I rub my face, the coke already starting to wear off. I don’t have the money to pay them, but I’m not in the mood to negotiate. I’ll cross the bridge of financial obligations when I get there, just as I always do.

“Fine!” I say, my tone sharper than intended. “Just get into the van.”

4 – Majestic Creature

Black Barrier Beach. The sign is barely legible since I last saw it, but it’s still familiar.

The last time I was here, Mary and I lay under the stars until midnight talking about our hopes for the future. It was shortly after the disappearance of ninety-one, and while she was hesitant, I wanted to keep that brief window of our time together alive. We left after Mary claimed voices were beckoning her down to the water. I thought it was nonsense, but we still never went back.

I park in front of the padlocked gate and open the back doors. In the end, out of the twenty or so guys, only a dozen got into the van, including Four Eyes. Unfortunately, beggars can’t be choosers. The Mexicans are a little rattled after the journey, but I can still see the desperation in their eyes, and it gives me hope.

A beaten-up Ford Escalade pulls up. A young, short man with thick black hair gets out of the driver’s seat, shielding his eyes from the bright sun.

“Lenny!” I call out. “Over here!”

He squints at me and gives a limp wave.

“Jimmy,” he says, approaching. “Who are these guys? What’s going on?”

I really don’t have time for this today.

“Did you bring the stuff?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says hesitantly.

“Great!” I exclaim. “You have been promoted today from personal assistant to chief communications officer. I need you to tell these guys to pack up all this shit and follow us to the beach.”

He scrutinises the group of labourers. “Why?”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “The job of a chief communications officer is to communicate instructions, not ask questions. Now, where’s my stuff?”

He shuffles in place. “Are you sure you don’t have any money? You already owe me quite a lot.”

I take a steadying breath. “Listen, if this works out, you won’t have to worry about me paying you back for years.” I look him in the eyes. “And you can buy your grandmother that automatic wheelchair she needs.”

Averting his gaze, Lenny reaches into his pocket and brings out a small plastic bag. Before he offers it, I snatch it from him.

“What’s this?” I ask, looking at the tiny package. “Do I look like a fucking mouse?”

He shakes his head. “It’s all I can get today,” he says. “I promised it to someone else, and this guy does not like being shafted.”

“Well, he can take my shaft,” I say, dipping my finger in and scooping up a small portion of powder with my pinkie finger. Snorting it, I instantly feel like my heart is made of concrete. “All right guys, pack everything up and follow me!”

Lenny says something in Spanish to them, and we set off up a steep incline. The sun, hotter than Satan’s asshole, beats down on us like an angry Russian husband.

Behind me, the procession of labourers huff and puff. Compared to them, I’m Peter Pan. I feel like I can fly. They better get a move on. Otherwise, what am I paying them for? I feel great now, but I really wish that I had hunted around the house a little bit more for any leftovers of my stash.

Finally, we get to our destination. A sizeable hole cut into the fence like a jagged grin. I manage to squeeze through without snagging my linen suit.

“Isn’t this that haunted beach?” Jimmy asks, hesitating at the hole.

“No,” I reply. “That’s a different deserted beach.” I tap my foot impatiently. “Now stop being a baby and don’t touch that rusty wire. I’m not covering tetanus shots.”

While Lenny and the others follow behind, I sprint the rest of the way up the hill. When I finally get to the top, I look down at the beach, and an inexplicable feeling grips my insides. It’s hard to describe the colossal creature covering most of the beach. It looks like something biblical. Even with the missing head, its massive proportions dwarf anything I’ve ever seen. Whatever it was, it’s now just a colossal tube of decaying meat. A very profitable colossal tube of decaying meat.

The labourers trailing behind me stop and stare.

“Dios Mio,” one of them says, crossing himself.

“Come on,” I say, my energy levels suddenly spiking again. “It won’t cut itself up.”

“Cut? Up?” One asks, but I’m already halfway down the hill.

Racing toward the creature, I stop as I’m hit by a smell so foul that I clamp my hands over my nose and mouth. It smells like I’ve missed garbage day twelve consecutive times. But instead of a few bags filled with rotten chicken, it’s like a wall of festering filth. This close to the titan, I can see massive black flies buzzing all around it. How long has this been here? It can’t only be a day.

The labourers join me, pulling neckerchiefs over their faces as they approach.

“All right, everyone,” I announce, putting a Savile Row pocket square over my nose. “Breathe through your mouths and start cutting up this thing.”

“What the hell are we doing here?” Lenny whispers. “Saw this thing on TikTok. Isn’t it supposed to be blown up tomorrow?”

“Yeah, about that,” I say. “That thing is over one hundred tonnes of pure profit. Chinese businessmen will huff its crushed bones to get hard, Arab Princes will pay to have a coffee table made from its spine, and I’m pretty sure I can get a brand deal with Goop to turn its blubber into a reverse ageing cream.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Lenny says, his eyes wide with horror.

I rub the back of my neck. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I’m in a lot of trouble, and if I don’t dig myself out of this hole soon, Sydney Sweeney will be gone forever.”

“Your car?” Lenny asks. “What about Mary and Beth?”

I wave a dismissive hand. “Sure, and them.”

“Well, what about the impact on the environment?”

“I would literally stomp the last remaining Galapagos tortoise to death to get my Porsche back.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “Please, Lenny, help me convince these guys that I’m paying fifty bucks each to turn this magnificent creature into exotic furniture and skin care products.”

He looks at the whale, then the labourers. “All right, Jimmy, I’ll do this for you.”

I kiss him on the forehead. “Then let’s get started!” I shout, running over to one of the labourers and grabbing a machete. “Today we make history.” I stride over the headless whale, lifting the machete above my head. “We shall conquer nature for capitalism.” I bring the machete down. “And we—” I stop mid-sentence as the blunted blade reverberates off the thick blubber. “Shit,” I murmur. “Probably should have invested in something motorised.”

5 – Classic Literature

“Come on!” I shout, clapping my hands together. “Chop, chop and chop up that whale!”

The labourers have been cutting into the headless creature without making much progress.

“You’re a failure,” a voice whispers.

“Who the fuck said that?” I demand.

No one seems to have heard me — they’re all too busy hacking away.

“Everyone will abandon you.”

I slowly turn towards the carcass. It almost sounds like the voice is coming from inside the whale.

“Salvation is within. You just need to claim it.”

I smack the side of my head. The sun is cooking my brain and making me hallucinate.

Lenny wanders over after circling the whale.

“The great leviathan,” he says. “Is that one creature in the world which must remain unpainted to the last.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, rubbing my temples.

“It’s a quote from Moby Dick by Herman Melville.” I raise an eyebrow. “You know, the book about a sea captain consumed by ambition hunting a mysterious sperm whale.”

“Never read it. Books are for chumps.” I smile. “But I think I’ve seen the one about a big white dick filled with sperm.”

“Sure,” Lenny says, wincing. “I’m doing a course on classic American literature. The Great Gatsby is my favourite so far.”

“The one with Leonardo DiCaprio?” I ask. “You know I was supposed to go to an orgy with him and Tobey Maguire.”

“Uh huh,” he mutters. What do you think happened to its head?”

I blow out a puff of air. “Maybe a cruise liner blade, maybe a krill-sized stick of dynamite. I don’t care so long it makes me money.”

Before Lenny can respond, one of the labourers comes over. He’s covered in sweat and holding a piece of plastic.

“Mr Wonder,” he says, addressing me. “These tools aren’t going to get through the whale. Its skin is too thick.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “If you can’t do it, then maybe I should go back to the side of the road where I picked you up and find someone who will.”

I feel Lenny’s hand on my arm.

“Jimmy,” he says in a soft tone. “He’s right. Let me go get something that will help make the job easier.”

I nod. “Good idea.”

“Can we also get our lunch?” the labourer asks.

“Your lunch is right there!” I exclaim, gesturing to the carcass. “All the whale meat you can eat!”

“Come on Jim,” Lenny reassures. “That stuff’s probably poisonous. You don’t want your staff getting sick, do you?”

“Contractors,” I correct. “Alright. You have communicated your intentions effectively.” I pull out my wallet and do a quick calculation. Less than two hundred bucks left. “Here.” I give him sixty dollars. “Buy them some hot dogs from the gas station.”

“You promised us a bucket of chicken,” the labourer says.

I hand over another twenty.

“Wait!” I exclaim before Lenny can put the money in his pocket.

I grab the twenty, unfold it and lick off the remaining coke. I hand it back, feeling the slight kick of the drug as it enters my system.

“I expect change.”

6 – Mighty Poo

The dull thud of axes into flesh resounds along the coastline as three of the labourers hack away at the tail. They seem to have found a rhythm and are making good progress.

“Come on guys!” I call, cupping my hands over my mouth. “You can do it!”

Two of the three take a break while the largest of the bunch continues hacking at the monster. He’s already more than halfway through, sweat glistening off his bulging muscles. Instead of slowing down, he picks up speed. The others have gathered around and are cheering him. With a final meaty whack, the whale’s tail is severed. A mixture of whistles and cheers erupt from the other men.

The big man grins at me, and I give him a thumbs up. He better not expect a bonus.

“You guys over there,” I say, pointing at several men. “I want you to take that tailbone over there. We’ll start piling pieces up.”

With great effort, they drag the massive tail away from the rest of the whale. Out of habit, I look at my naked wrist, which is missing a recently pawned Rolex Platinum Yacht Master. With a sigh, I take out my phone. 3:30 PM. At this rate, there’s no way the whale will be drawn and quartered by sunset.

“Hey asshole!” A voice shouts.

“Who are you calling ass—” my words die in my mouth as I turn to see a group of silhouettes barrelling down the hill.

I squint to see Lenny practically sprinting ahead of the others, clutching a bucket of chicken.

“I’m sorry, Jimmy. He was very insistent.”

Behind him is an immensely wide East Asian guy.

“Oh shit,” I mutter as his features begin to fall into place like a crappy jigsaw. I click my fingers, trying to remember his name. “Hey, um, it’s um…” he gets closer, his fists clenched. “I got it!” I shout triumphantly as he closes the distance. “Big Poo! I have your money, but there’s a bit of a cash flow ish—”

The wind is knocked out of me as he slams a fist into my sternum. I crumpled to the ground, clutching my midriff as I suck in thin slivers of air.

“Mighty Pooh! It’s Japanese, you racist piece of shit!”

“That’s even funnier,” I manage to wheeze.

Rough hands grab my suit lapels and haul me to my feet. My legs feel weak, but the two similar-sized Asian men beside me hold me in place.

“What did you say?” Mighty Pooh asks, spittle leaking between his teeth.

The labourers gather around us, clutching their tools.

“Help!” I cry out. “Minimum wage Mexicans, save me!”

“No one’s going to help you,” Mighty Pooh says, jabbing a thick finger into my chest.

I look around, and instead of leaping into action as I expect, they’re all munching on chicken. The only one who seems at all concerned is Lenny, who stares at us with wide eyes.

“Traitors! What am I paying you for?”

Mighty Pooh literally shakes with anger. “So, you have money for—” he looks over my shoulder at the whale. “Whatever this is. But nothing to pay me back?”

“I promise I have your money. It’s just…” my mind is racing, explanations swirling around me in a confusing hurricane. “It’s not in liquid form yet.”

There’s a long, dangerous silence. I clear my throat.

“I said, it’s not quite liq—”

Mighty Pooh’s thick, calloused hand whips up and strikes me across the face. His goons let me go, and I crumple to my knees, clutching my cheek. Hot tears spring to my eyes. That was so much worse than being punched.

“You have until tomorrow to get me my money,” Mighty Pooh says, standing over me. “Otherwise, you’ll wish you were that whale.” He turns and starts walking back the way he came but stops in front of Le,nny.

“Please Pooh,” he says, his tone urgent. “Go easy on him. He’s not…” he trails off. “The worst human to ever exist, and I’m sorry about your product. I’ll get you more.”

“Listen, you’re a good kid, and I don’t care about my coke,” he says, his tone surprisingly soft. “Even if you gave it to this lizard.” He points at me. “Remember, chameleons may seem harmless, but they camouflage themselves, and before you know it, you’ll be swallowed whole.” He hands something to Lenny. “This was in the U-Haul. Leave before it’s too late.” With that, he walks off, his goons close behind.

I slowly scramble to my feet, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Get back to work,” I say flatly, and they begin to disperse.

“Are you alright?” Lenny asks, his voice filled with concern.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, but I shrug him off.

“What did he give you?” I ask.

“Nothing important,” Lenny replies quickly. “Just some wadded-up receipts for a gentlemen’s club.”

I chuckle. “Until today I thought my lowest point was eating a soggy omelette alone while a Russian stripper with a botched boob job did a table dance for me.” I let the silence hang until it becomes too uncomfortable. “I’m in trouble, Lenny,” I say, massaging my stomach. “If I don’t somehow come up with the money by tomorrow, I’ll be in more pieces than that whale.”

Lenny’s pitiful look makes my roiling guts turn with disgust. “I’ve got a cousin. He can get you into Brazil. You can start over.”

I straighten. “Jimmy Wander doesn’t start over. If there’s a brick wall, he punches his way through. I started with nothing aside from a significant inheritance from my father.”

I point at the whale. Pooh’s strike must have knocked something loose because it almost sounds like muttering is coming from inside it again. I shake my head.

“That thing will put me back on top. So, are you going to help me, or are you going to give up?”

Lenny looks down at his feet. “Whatever you want, Jimmy.”

7 – Writhing in the Deep

Smoking a cigarette that I bummed from one of the labourers, I sit and watch the whale get slowly dismantled.

“Come and join us.” The ethereal chorus has been getting louder as more voices join it. “Forget all those you hurt. We shall embrace you.”

“Yeah, whatever you fat, beached bitch,” I say, blowing out a black cloud. “You sucked as a whale, so do something useful with your life. Like helping fat chicks stay moisturised.”

At least Lenny managed to get a chainsaw, which has significantly cut down time.

Speaking of the lanky devil, he approaches with Four-Eyes.

“Jimmy, this is Pedro. He wants to talk to you.”

The man holds out his hand, but I don’t have the energy to shake it, and he lowers it.

“What do you want?” I ask. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to manifest vast wealth?”

At this point I’m running on fumes. All I want to do is wade into the ocean and let it take me. The two men look at each other and briefly confer in Spanish.

“Mr Wonder, in Mexico I was a marine biologist for over twenty years.”

“And I once spent a summer as a lifeguard banging the sorority chicks.” I puff out a black, bitter cloud of smoke. “Just get to the point.”

“My specialty was in cetaceans.” I stare at him blankly. “Dolphins, orcas, and whales. I have studied every single species extensively.” He points at the carcass. “I can tell you with certainty that thing is not a whale.”

I take another inhale, the nicotine giving my exhausted nerves a small tickle.

“Of course it’s a whale,” I say, getting to my feet. “I don’t know what kind of Mickey Mouse education you got down South, but just look at that thing. That’s a blue whale.”

Pedro chews his lip. “I thought so too,” he says eventually. “But its proportions are wrong. The fins too rigid, the flesh too dense. It resembles more of a predator than a filter feeder.”

“Alright,” I say, humouring him. “Then what is it?”

“A defilement of nature, Mr Wonder.” He glances over his shoulder and lowers his voice. “It is as if the leviathan itself has slithered from ancient text. Some are saying they can hear even voices.”

“Bullshit,” I say, snorting

“It’s not bullshit,” the chorus mocks.

“Yes, it is. Now hush!”

“Who are you talking to?” Lenny asks.

“Your mother,” I reply, waving my hand to dismiss him and the voices.

“I also found this,” Pedro says, rummaging in his pocket and bringing out a long white object.

“Is that a tooth?” I ask.

“I found this in its neck. That thing didn’t die of natural causes. Something chewed through—”

“Yoink!” I grab the tooth and pocket it. “This will make a great knife handle.”

“You do not understand, Mr Wonder,” Pedro implores. “There might be something else out there.”

I run my fingers through my hair. “Unless that other thing is also rotting on a nearby beach, I don’t care.”

“Please,” Pedro says. “Let’s leave nature to destroy that abomination.”

I look him in the eyes. “Get back to work, or you don’t get paid.”

He mumbles something in Spanish and starts walking up the hill.

“Good riddance,” I say, waving a hand in his direction. “He was killing the mood.”

Lenny crouches in front of me. “I think he’s right,” he says.

“You’re just like the rest of them,” I say, looking down at the sand. “Everyone leaves me.”

I look up to see Lenny chewing his lip — something’s on his mind. From the back of his jeans, he pulls out the envelope from the U-Haul.

Oh shit.

“Lenny, did you read that?”

Before he can reply, a scream severs the silence. I look past Lenny to see a gathering of labourers around the whale’s belly. We make our way to the group, and the smell of decomposing flesh hits me like a tidal wave. It’s so much worse than earlier. I push past the men until I’m standing in front of the wall of blubber. The large man who cut the tail off is standing slack-jawed in front of it, holding the chainsaw.

“There’s something inside it,” he says, pointing at the whale.

I stare at the corpse for what feels like an eternity, waiting to witness some unspeakable horror. But nothing happens.

“You’re all just paranoid,” I say, my voice trembling. “Now get back to—”

The skin distends as something pushes from within the whale. The men retreat, scrambling over one another in panic.

“It’s just gas,” I say as more lumps form. “Or… parasites.”

They all drop their tools and run towards the exit.

“Come back!” I call after them. “I’ll give you each an extra ten bucks.”

“Do you want to know why everyone leaves you?” I turn to see Lenny clutching the envelope in his trembling hands. “It’s because all you do is manipulate and gaslight!” he screams. “You don’t see people, you just see objects to further your ambition.”

He throws down the envelope at my feet, and its terrible contents spill over the sand. I look down at the words printed in bold red lettering.

Restraining order for domestic battery.

I swallow, choking down the hazy, drug-fuelled memory of that night. The explosion of a hurled decanter, the screams of my loved ones and the quickly forming bruise from the slap I delivered.

“It was a mistake,” I say, trying to reassure Lenny. “It was just the one time.”

“How could you do that to them?” he asks. “Hurting your wife and daughter. You’re wicked.” Lenny looks down at his feet. “I put up with so much of your shit because I thought we had something. The other night after your breakup when you invited me over and—”

“Shut up!” I shout. “I’m not gay, OK.”

Lenny winces as if slapped. I suppress my immediate instinct to bite again. He’s all I have left.

“Listen,” I say, putting my hands on his shoulders. “You’re my head of communications. We can still turn this around. We need to turn that whale into money, and then we can do whatever we like. Hell, I’m woke. We can even get a place together, you and me. What do you say?”

“Mighty Pooh was right. You are a chameleon.” Lenny puts his hands over mine and removes them. “I don’t want to be eaten.” He turns and starts walking up the hill.

“Fine! I don’t need you! I’m Jimmy fucking Wonder! I will rule the world.”

The sun is setting beyond the horizon, turning Lenny into a shadow. I reach into my jacket pocket and bring out the last bit of coke. I sort rails on my phone screen and begin to snort them. Each line fills my internal battery until I’m a walking conductor.

“You are alone,” the chorus sings.

“Enough with the creepy voices,” I say, picking up the chainsaw. I yank hard on the cord, and the roar of the chainsaw drowns out the voices. “You’re mine now.”

Time becomes irrelevant. Seconds pass into minutes and into hours. The smell is unbearable, but there’s no stopping me. I am a one-man army.

The chainsaw rips into the whale, sending blood and meat everywhere. Entrails clings to me like a second skin. We are becoming one.

With a splutter, the chainsaw dies, and I let it drop to the sand. I wait until the sun crests the horizon, revealing my magnum opus. I have turned the whale’s side into a mangled mess of viscous pulp.

“You have done it.” Without the mechanical roar, the chorus is clear again. “Your salvation is here. Claim it.”

A thin membrane is all that’s left between me and everything I’ve ever wanted. I grip the flesh, but it’s too thick to pull apart. It’s impossible, but through the semi-translucent skin, I see the impression of scratches. Like a legion of rodents were trying to claw their way out.

“Use her instrument of my demise.”

Instinctively, I reach into my pocket and take out the tooth. I plunge it into the skin and pull downwards with the last of my energy. With a wet tearing sound, the barrier parts and I take a step back as the salvation the chorus has been promising spills over the sand.

My insides freeze as a cold realisation overcomes me.

Pedro was right. This is no whale — it is the leviathan. Thousands upon thousands of human bones of all shapes and sizes spill onto the white sand.

“Hmmm,” I murmur, bending over and picking up a skull with thin tendrils of hair still attached. “This has to be worth something.”