Jellyfish

Let me tell you a story.

Once, when I was a wee lad who had not even slain his first dragon, I went to the beach in Pensacola, Florida. This was customary, as visiting Gramma Mary involved visiting Pensacola, Florida.

Anyways, I enjoyed, as most boys with bowl-cuts of shimmering gold do, splashing about in the ocean and thinking to myself "I'm sure, statistically speaking, that there aren't any sharks at this beach since everyone's having a swell time and the lifeguard is at ease and hitting on nubile high schoolers, but BY GOD WILL I FREAK OUT IF SOMETHING BRUSHES AGAINST MY FOOT". And then I would slap my face against the water in an effort to look for a shark but you couldn't see much without goggles and sea salt stings.

Well, I was doing said splashing and thinking and slapping when I noticed an acute pain in my right nipple.

This was no ordinary pain.

This was the ache of a jellyfish sting, something only people who have been stung can understand. It is that soft pulse and that constant pull, that burning and tweaking pain that cannot be appeased with mere neosporin or morphine. Nay, this was the sting of the hideous jellyfish, the curse of an animal so alien, it was probably an alien.

Needless to say, I cranked up the splashing, this time with my hands instead of my face. I hoped to injure the assaulting jellyfish because, really, what sick bastard lets his limp tendril float toward the nipple? When attacked by creatures without backbones, I try to compensate with my own. Much to my disappointment, the jellyfish was gone, but the stung remained. I soon left the water, since it felt as if the salt aggravated my poor nipple. I tried going in later, but the pain only flared up again.

Damn you, Jellyfish. Damn you.

Maybe two years later we visited Florida again. I was excited for the time I could spend at the beach again. I entered the water with the slow walk of a manly badass I reserve for crashing waves and as soon as I dove underneath, I found a familiar stinging in my right nipple.

I had been marked.

What creatures God has made, that was not one. The Jellyfish had marked me as its own and ever since then my nipple stings in sea water, nearly emitting the red sigh of a jellyfish coiled about a Bunsen burner.

Rubbing my nipple and cursing, I had hardly the time to realize a shockwave had emitted from my nipple, spreading far out into the ocean in the rings of sound. There was a rumbling, and a gelatinous mountain appeared from the depths of the water, Jellyfish City, and the Jellyfish who had marked me had come to collect me.

I was a slave for the bastard for nearly thirteen years. He was a highly ranked politician, so I floated by his side at all the court meetings and gatherings where Jellyfish generally come together and remain indecisive on all political issues. Jellyfish Politics is a fascinating subject, since it balances both understanding and the lack of will to take a stance on it.

Sometimes it was hard to understand their language but I eventually learned. An excerpt I heard in Jellyfish Court such as this--"Abortion? Well, it's understandable, old boy, I guess. I mean, it's her body so it's her decision. But it's also a fair view to be opposed to the idea. After all, who are we to judge when life can be constituted as sentient or not? In that respect, it's better not to chance destroying possible sentience, not to mention what it might do to our standing with the Jellyfish Upstairs. I don't know, gentlejellies, this debate could go either way, really. Let us all have a short break for some Jellyfish Tea."--to laymen's ears might sound like "Garblflabrblaglarblglubblubglarblubglarbguhbubglubglarbllarbl".

Interesting thing, Jellyfish Politics. While main issues may infuriate other parties, they generally pass over the Jellyfish Party in a wide sweeping motion, like the wave too far up near the surface which Jellyfish don't care for unless there are a good amount of nubile nipples (understandable). So the Jellyfish Party never gets outraged over anything and every party member is perfectly comfortable. As a result, yes, the Jellyfish Party doesn't actually get anything done but in my time spent with them, I understood why they took such an invertebrate stance (aside from the obvious reasons). It's because, well, it's hard to love someone when all you can do is hurt them when you reach out to touch them...But maybe I just have Stockjelly Syndrome.

Y'know, I learned something today. It's fine to understand both sides of an issue, and it's all very well to try not to judge people based on their decisions. But true political correctness is impossible, as every Jellyfish is born with a bias, whether it be due to society or biology, and while such differences sure do cause problems, they should be celebrated as well.

In the words of the sorely missed Jellyfish Jellsworth, "Garblflarblglubulglarb. Blarblglarbglarblubblubgublubblub? Blubblglubblglarblglaar, blarglarbblhharblbub, blarblubblglub."