The Night of the Rose

We were driving home from the university
when a whale exploded in the back of our truck.

Blubber covered everything: sidewalks, storefronts,
a passing army of revolutionaries;
three small children caught in the blast haven’t been seen
dry since.

We believed it was an old sperm whale, but
the passing revolutionaries disagreed.

That’s when the fighting began.

We ordered banners
depicting macrocephalic sea mammals and
held rallies against abyssal gigantism.

The banners were meant to have roses as well, but
red cloth was scarce; morale quickly faded.

We lost.

They renamed the city Herringrad, after their
great leader.

We still don’t know where the whale came from.

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