I was accosted this morning by a large sea turtle. I had arisen early to steal the neighbor's newspaper (I cancelled my subscription when I learned the editor was a freethinker and a bigamist), and just as I stepped outside, I saw it. The turtle must have been a good 5 feet long and 3.5 feet wide(these are shell measurements), and I would estimate that it weighed at least 200 pounds. I certainly couldn't lift him, and I'm hella strong. I attribute my exceptional strength to a daily regimen of vitamins and backgammon, although I'm also 1/32 Apache Indian, so that's sort of an X factor.
It's hard to say what the turtle wanted. He insisted that I relate his demands to the world in Cantonese, and my accent isn't so good. Frankly, I had some difficulty understanding him as well. At first I thought he wanted all the tops to my old cereal boxes, but upon retrospection that may have been due to some baseless preconceptions on my part. It's really not fair to make generalizations about all sea turtles based on a single previous experience.
Having learned my lesson about stereotyping and intolerance, I shot him. I abhor violence, except when it comes to large things I fear and don't understand. I guess I'll never know what he wanted. Maybe just a chance to live out his dreams, to laugh, to fall in love, to experience new things, to see if he could hold his breath longer than all the other sea turtles in his class to impress some girl sea turtle who is busy talking on her cell phone and putting on nail polish at a green light with like sixteen other sea turtles honking their horns behind her. Who can say?
I buried him in the backyard with all my old cereal box tops, just in case.
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