We walk through the park and you tell me about your sister. The one with the wooden leg. The one who lost her leg swimming with the dolphins. You tell me how the dolphins surrounded her. They swam in circles around and around her. You tell me she thought this was super cool until one of the dolphins broke free from the pack and shot towards her. The others followed. The first head butted her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. The next simply swam past her, staring. She told you she could have sworn it smirked at her as it zipped by. The next one, that was the one that did it. That dolphin had a patch over its left eye and a bite out if its right fin. It swam as if fueled by anger, or evil desires, or maybe it was just a jerk. I tell you dolphins don’t enjoy swimming with people. You say that’s beside the point. I tell you it isn’t. You say that she said this dolphin had teeth like a great white’s. You say your sister had no time to swim away. She told you that the other dolphins had started circling around her again as the great white dolphin swam with swagger in her direction. She told you that the great white dolphin simply swam up and took a bite out of her leg. Like eating a chicken wing. Or popcorn chicken. Or maybe like a breaded boneless chicken wing. You say that it was like popping some sort of deep fried chicken part easily in one’s mouth. Except it was a dolphin. So weird, right? you ask me. I say that you are right, it is weird.

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Alexis Pope

Alexis Pope is an undergraduate student at The University of Akron where she studies English and Creative Writing.