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Pink Dolphin

“This water is like soooo dirty. I know, I know: we could swim somewhere better but this cove is like so close to home and it’s probably going to give me like a bacterial infection but at least we can tan here and we’re five minutes from home and I know this is where Greg and the other porpoises hang.”

“Yeah, duh, I know they’re not the same as us but I can like Greg. What? Are you like totally genus? You’re so typical. I tell you all the time that you’re so Louisiana. I’m like Californian Amazonian so I know hicks when I see them and you are so close to being one. I’m not trying to be like mean. I’m just calling it as I see it and you can be a little Louisiana, Tiff. Look outside of your genus sometimes.”

“Oh, did you hear about Stevie? She was apparently set up on a blind date and, when she got there, it was with a manatee. A manatee. Yeah, fucking ocean cow. I don’t know what I would do if I got to a date and there was some big fat water bitch trying to seduce me. She isn’t genus, at least. I don’t get down with manatees, though. I just don’t like big things! I’m like tiny, okay? I like other things that are tiny—but not like where it counts. That’s not genus to say, okay?”

“That reminds me, if Greg does show up do not mention that we heard about him and Raph. Like everyone knows that they rub more than their rudders. It’s normal! Who doesn’t surf the same sometimes? I just don’t want to embarrass him and I like totally don’t want Greg like thinking about Raph when he should be thinking about me. You know? It’s like going out on a date and then talking about another girl. Like, look at me: I’m here for you Greg. God. I love his beak. They say that dudes with major beakage have major packages. Yes, I know that we’ve all seen it because he gets spontaneous wood in school like all of us but I’m just saying that I can dream of having it rubbed on my back and it’s a good dream. Okay? Let me dream, Tiff.”

“Ugh. They’re here again. I thought we told them to fuck off? We splashed them last time and, great, now they’re on the dock, talking. Like why do they insist on talking to the little ones? Like they don’t care. They’re going to be like ‘isn’t she just cute?’ and I am sooooo tired of hearing that. I’m not cute. I’m 17 and I’m now beautiful. Don’t shit on me if you don’t even know me.”

Pregnant? I’m not fucking pregnant. And with Raph‘s calf? No. Raph is gay. He’s totally gay! I wasn’t hanging out with him. No, that video is totally like faked. It’s just like some bad school project. I don’t even like P!nk. Not now, at least. I liked her when she was like more R&B and kind of rap. That’s all I listened to when I was living in California. She’s just like faux-rock now and I don’t even get the aerial stuff. Not that I would. I mean, I’m down for some air time like anyone else but I know better than hanging out landed for more than ten minutes. I’m not like suicidal.”

“NO!! Raph and I didn’t do anything. Well. Maybe. I let him feel a tit. That’s it! He was curious and we were fooling around after school. He told me that he’d tell Greg about it and he’d put the two of us together and he said that Greg is like totally into pinkies. I’m the only pinkie so he’s obviously talking about me. Right? Right? Whose team are you on, Tiff? Don’t be such a fucking ice cube.”

“Don’t leave! I’m seriously having so much fun with you. If you leave, I’m going to like be all alone and totally bummed. Like seriously! Bummed. Tiff, don’t leave. You’re totally cosmo and totally not genus, I swear. Please stay? If you go you know they’ll net me and then talk about how I look like some Lisa Frank bullshit. Seriously! It happens all the time. Don’t leave? Please? Fine. We can go. I want to leave anyway. That camera dude is putting on his scuba gear and I don’t want him following us.”

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