Persona Dramatis



Andy Dalton: Quarterback

Mohammad Sanu: Large Canoe / Small Boat

Whale: Whale, Whale

Part One: In Which Andy Dalton Has Become Stuck in the Belly of a Whale Which has Swallowed Him Whole

Andy Dalton had never started a fire before, which was important, because that is the best way to escape from the belly of a whale. Getting swallowed by a whale is an uncomfortable experience, to be sure, very wet and very slimey, but once you bump your way around the baleen, and wriggle through the throat, you are shunted to a special organ, called the belly, that is a little damp, and a little dark, but full of air, and is designed specifically to hold prophets and mariners and quarterbacks, and this is where Andy Dalton was, with his canoe that he had named after his best friend, Mohammad Sanu. Andy Dalton was a good Christian, and had gone to Bible study every week at TCU, so he was familiar with the story of Jonah and the whale. Andy Dalton knew, if you wanted to escape from the belly of a whale, you had to make him cough and cough, and he’d get so mad he’d spit you right back out. And he also knew the best way to make a whale cough was to light a fire in its belly, and the smoke would make it itch and itch and itch, and it’d cough you right back into the sea, so you could continue preaching to Jericho. Or whatever city Jonah was supposed to go to. But Andy Dalton didn’t know how to light a fire, and, in the total wet and dark that is the inside of a whale, he wasn’t likely to get one lit, even if he had known how.

Dear Reader, have you ever listened to whalesong? It’s long and deep and it would be spooky if it didn’t sound so soothing. Most whales sing, especially the big ones with full bellies, and a lot of biologists have spent a lot of time trying to figure out what they’re singing. They haven’t figured it out yet, because they don’t know that when whales sing, they aren’t singing to the outside, to the biologists, they’re singing to the inside, to the little Jonahs and Henry Albert Bivvens and quarterbacks they have down in their bellies. That’s why whales swallow people, you see. For the conversation.

Now, most readers have never ever talked to a whale before and don’t know how strange it can be, talking to a big old whale you’re stuck inside of. You see, when you’re in a whale’s belly, and it wants to say something to you, you feel it, you don’t hear it. It starts in your toes, a deep deep bass note that tickles the bottoms of your feet and shakes its way up your legs and hips and to your belly, and it echoes in the air all around you, and it fills its belly with song, and it asks you why you’re in the middle of the ocean, in nothing but a little canoe, and where you’re going and why you’re going there.

“Well, uh, it’s a long story. So. Uh. I’m a quarterback. Which is – um. Do you know what football is?

And the whale answers in a rumble that hums in your chest when you answer:

NO

“Well, it’s a game. And I was really good at it when I was a kid. I was the best player in the most important position on all my teams. But the team I’m on now, the Cincinnati Bengals, they play better teams than I’ve ever played before. And I’m not as good as the teams I have to play against, now.”

ISN’T CINCINNATI VERY FAR FROM THE OCEAN. OR DID YOU MOVE IT.

“Yeah, ha, it’s about as far as you can get, actually. But I’ve got to play a game in Hawaii. It’s an important game, against all the best players in the world, and because I was picked last out of all of guys to go the Pro Bowl, I’m not allowed to fly in a plane; I have to build my own canoe, and row there alone.”

THAT SEEMS….SILLY AND UNSAFE.

“Yeah, they didn’t tell me about that part of the rules until after I told them I would come. But that’s why I’m out here. I don’t suppose you’ll be kind to a good Christian like me and me and swim to Hawaii and spit me out before January 25th, will you?”

IF I DO THAT, WHO WOULD I TALK TO?

“Why don’t you talk to the other whales? I’m sure they’ll have more to say than I will. You could meet a sweet lady whale, settle down, have a couple of whale-lets, get a house in the whale suburbs.”

I AM A LADY WHALE.

“Oh. Oh. I’m so sorry ma’am, I didn’t know, this is my first time being in the belly of a whale. I don’t really know the etiquette. Listen, is there a way to get a light in here? It’s dark and I need to open up my food.

I CAN OPEN UP MY BLOWHOLE FOR YOU WHEN I SURFACE IN A FEW HOURS

“Uh, thanks. Listen, I’m gonna sleep for a bit. Haven’t really slept since the storm hit and you swallowed me up. I’m exhausted.”

GOODNIGHT ANDY DALTON













Part Two: In Which Andy Dalton Escapes from the Belly of the Whale

Andy Dalton woke up to the smell of saltwater and a sunlight streaming through the blowhole in the roof. The belly was bigger than he thought it could be. Forty or so feet high, and maybe a couple of schoolbus-lengths from front to back. More than enough room for the Sanu Canoe. Andy spend a little bit wondering how the whale had managed to fit them both in. He gave up. He didn’t know much about whales, and he’d never tried to put a little ship in a little bottle. He was a quarterback, not a marine biologist. He started rummaging through his pack. All of Andy Dalton’s things were soaked through. And as wet as things were in the belly, nothing was going to get dry enough to light on fire.

“Fuck,” thought Andy Dalton. “What the fuck do I know about whales?”

Andy ripped open a granola bar and started to eat. Crumbs spilled all around him.

GOOD MORNING ANDY DALTON. HOW DID YOU SLEEP.

“Really well, actually, for being cold and wet and stuck in the belly of a whale. Hey, I have a question. How does this whole respiratory system work, as far as keeping me alive goes? I know you can hold your breath for hours, but I can’t. No complaints so far or anything, I just wanna be sure you’re not gonna accidently suffocate me.

I WON’T FORGET TO BREATHE FOR YOU, DON’T WORRY.

Andy Dalton had a sudden realization. He didn’t need to light a fire to get out of his whale. This was good, because he still didn’t know how. A fire would be dangerous, anyway, in a space as cramped an inescapable as a whale belly. And if he managed to accidently set his canoe on fire, he’d be stranded, canoe-less and whaleless, alone in the Pacific. He’d never make it in time to the Pro Bowl.

Andy Dalton decided he was going to try to plug the blowhole, instead. He didn’t know much about whales, but he was pretty sure that if he plugged the blowhole, the whale would have to spit out him & his canoe if he promised to unplug it from the outside, so she could breathe again. Andy started rummaging through his canoe, looking for something football-shaped he could throw.

A fun thing you should know about blowholes, dear reader, is how truly small they are. Even the biggest of whales have a blowhole just barely bigger than a football, which is very important to know, if you ever find yourself without any matches in the belly of a whale. And, while this information could be useful to you, it was very good for Andy to know, as he was a man whose job was to throw things into small holes.

It is a small but happy coincidence that a pack of Army Rations is roughly the size of a football, but heavier, and rectangular. So, not really like a football, but it was all Andy Dalton had, and it was just the right size to wedge into the blowhole of a whale, forty feet overhead. Andy emptied out the metal can into his canoe, wound up, and threw.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE ANDY

“Uh, uh, nothing, it looks like the mast from my boat is brushing up against the top of your belly.” Andy ran over and picked up the can. He threw it up again, as hard as he could, right at the blowhole. He missed again.





ARE YOU THROWING THINGS. WHAT ARE YOU THROWING AT ME

This was it. Third and long. Andy wound up again. Visions of His favorite receiver Mohammad Sanu, his open hands waiting for a long bomb, Andy took a deep breath, and overthrew the shit out of the football. The can landed in the hole, and stuck. The belly darkened, and the whale yelled at Andy.

I CANNOT BREATHE ANDY DALTON. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE.

“I plugged your blowhole with a can. If you let me out with my boat, I’ll pull the can out and we can both be on our ways. No harm, no foul.”

THAT IS CLEVER OF YOU ANDY. BUT WATCH THIS

Andy’s ears popped as the pressure in the belly skyrocketed. There was a distant whistle as the whale puffed and huffed and tried to force the can out. Andy Dalton felt like he had been punched in the gut, and his waterbottles crumped. A few burst, and Andy was sprayed with water.

THIS ISN’T FUNNY ANDY.

“Let me out, ma’am, or we’ll both suffocate,” Andy coughed and coughed.

HOLD ON TIGHT ANDY DALTON

If you thought getting swallowed by a whale would be uncomfortable, too wet and too slimey, you were right. But it was nowhere near as bad as getting spit out, jostling around in your little boat named after your best friend, surrounded by fish and plankton, brushed by baleen, and coughing on saltwater. Eventually, Andy made it out into the sunshine, and the Sanu Canoe floated in the Pacific again, and his whale floated next to him, a can half-sticking out of his blowhole.

Andy Dalton was a man of his word, so he hopped onto the back of his whale, and he grabbed the can, and he pulled and pulled and pulled, and when it popped free, he fell backwards into the ocean, and he could hear the whalesong as his whale swam away into the Pacific. He couldn’t tell what it was saying, because whalesong is sung inward, as I’m sure you remember, dear reader, but he liked to think she was singing

GOODBYE, ANDY DALTON, AND GOOD LUCK AT THE PRO BOWL.