You’re so stunned you can’t speak, much less move.
When you took this job, you figured it would be easy. Patrol the Museum at night, leave in the morning. You’re not sure why the Museum only needs one night guard, but the money was good so you didn’t question it.
You didn’t expect to see a 94ft tall whale woman.
She’s kneeling on the floor of the Hall of Ocean Life. The true-to-life model of the Blue Whale is gone, and somehow you make the logic leap that this is her somehow. Waves of iridescent hair cascade down to her pendulous breasts, over a gently swelling belly. A nautical Venus of Waldorf, complete with blue skin and white patches meandering over her body.
She stares at you gawking through the hall entrance. She seems just as surprised to see you, but she soon breaks into a wide grin. It’s meant to be warm, but it is unnerving; of course a whale woman would have a whale’s mouth, far too large to be on a human head, bristly baleen instead of teeth.
“Well, are you just going to stand there all day hopin’ to catch flies, or are you going to come in and see me?” she giggles. Her voice is soft, motherly, with a Midwestern accent you can’t quite place. It puts you a little more at ease. “Didn’t they tell you how this job works? We get lonely at night.”
“Come on now, darling, do you really think I’m the only one?” she laughs again. She shifts, the floor shaking as she crawls towards the entrance. She extends a huge hand to you, palm up. “Why don’t you come give me some company, I’ll explain the whole thing…”