From Whales, by Charlene Kwon in > kill author.
“There are dead whales in the basement and they’re starting to smell. We know, the neighbor knows, even the neighbor’s cousin from Galveston knows. Everyone knows and no one will do a goddamn thing about it.
The cat’s the only one who hasn’t noticed. We envy the cat.
Keeping talk radio on 24 hours a day seems to make the whales smell less. Sometimes we even forget about the dead whales and on days when we feel particularly awesome and horny, we like to host barbeques.
We begin to smoke cigarettes and this helps too.
Four years later the radio station begins to lose money. They keep asking for donations. We listen to their phones ringing. We listen to pledges. We are tired of how much the radio station needs us. We are tired of feeling inadequate because we can’t provide them with what they need. We are tired of the radio station’s deepening dependency. We look to each other for comfort and we only find that we are tired from the stench of dead whales. We light each other’s cigarettes and carry on with our days.”
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