I was swimming around, minding my own business, when that old man rowed up and threw a harpoon at me! I’m innocent, I tell you! Innocent!

Ishmael saw the name of Peter COFFIN. The plaques in church looked like TOMBSTONES. He saw another sign hanging from what looked like a GIBBET. How many more portents that he shouldn’t go on this voyage did this idiot require?

I like Stubb. He has (oops! Had!) a good outlook on life I can respect. I appreciated his bonhomie, and I almost felt bad after I drowned him and ate him, but you can’t have everything going your way. Anyway, he liked to eat whales. So his death was fitting. The scales were balanced.

I hope the Peaquod doesn’t show up. I ate too much squid at the all you can eat buffet. I can’t swim that fast.

Listening to the funeral doom band Ahab on my Walkman. Yes, I use a Walkman. I’m a bit old-fashioned. Now get off my tail. (Haha, my tail, that joke gets me every time)

I was with Timor Tom and Marquand the other day. They wanted to know if I was truly ubiquitous, and could transcend time and space I said, sure! Then I answered the same question before they could ask it the first time, and you should have seen their faces! Still cracks me up.

“Death and devils! men, it is Moby Dick ye have seen—Moby Dick—Moby Dick!" That’s my name, old man, don’t wear it out.

Ishmael said it’s better to sleep with a sober cannibal than sleep with a drunken Christian. I’ll eat them both. And have. I’m not picky.

“Aye, Tashtego, and he fan-tails like a split jib in a squall!” Do you know how long it took me to perfect that move? I had to take ballet classes for that. Pfft. People don’t appreciate individuality, anymore.

"And what tune is it ye pull to, men?" "A dead whale or a stove boat!" It’s not my fault. They gave me a choice. The hell else am I supposed to do?

One of the better pictures of me. They captured my best side, at least.

You threw a harpoon at me. What. You think I’m going to let that go?

Ready to chew longboats!

I saw Queequeg, I sounded and high-tailed (haha, tailed) it the other way. That dude meant business.

I always stayed out of Queequeg’s way, I’m not stupid. That dude could hit a spot of tar a ship length’s away. Sheesh. I mean, I’m good, but I’m not that good.

They didn’t always shout “Thar she blows!” They used to shout, “Town Ho!” before that. This always made me and my whale buddies laugh our tails off. Like, WTF, dude, what…?

That old man. His nickname is Old Thunder. I’ll let you guess why.

Mrs. Dick was on me about visiting the cute dolphin twins. They’re not even my species, she keeps saying. Yeah, but they like my hyphen, so what else am I supposed to do?

Did you know this old man Ahab has a young wife in Nantucket? And a young son? I hope she’d sues him for mental cruelty and abandonment. At least that would get him off my tail. Hahaha. My tail. Hahahaha. My tail, though.

People ask how I get along with other whales. Pretty good. Except for Narwals, always poking their noses where they don’t belong. *nerd adjusts glasses* “Actually, that’s an elongated canine tooth adapted over time to—“ Oh, God—I mean: Oh Me, shut up, nerd.

A whale walks into a bar… Haha, that’s the joke, because whales can’t walk. I’m here all week. Try the veal.

There was a man from Nantucket Who kept his wife in a bucket He went to town, his face in a frown He dropped the bucket, and said, “This is a most inopportune event in my life, and I am summarily vexed.” I’m working on that last line.

I’m a little out of breath. They were chasing me again. But we didn’t do the whole perdition’s flames, thing. We went once or twice around the maelstrom, and called it quits.

People say I was named after Mocha Dick, an albino sperm whale killed off Chili in 1838. 70’ long, 100 barrels of oil. Killed 30 men. Or maybe it *was* me, after all. Not true. And only 30 men killed? That’s amateur hour.

Ishmael isn’t his real name, even. They’re all telling a big story on me. I’m really a very nice whale.

There’s confusion about the hyphen in my name. Melville didn’t have it in his printing plates, (we don’t have a manuscript) or the American edition. But it was included in the British publication of 1851. There’s no joke here. I’m letting you know what happened with regard to my name.

I love giant squid. You get down down to about 3,000 feet, it’s an all you can eat buffet down there.

You know why they chase us, right? They want our sperm. I’ll let you parse that one out on your own.

I suppose it’s serendipitous Starbuck didn’t live to see his name associated with overpriced, bitter tasting coffee. When you look at it that way, I did him a favor.

He Christened his ship Peaquod. How am I supposed to take that seriously?

I’m really a fun whale when you get to know me.

People ask me what I thought of the John Huston movie. I thought it insisted upon itself. Haha! I love that joke. I’m here all day. Try the veal.

Pip was a mistake. I got a bit carried away that day. I’m sorry.

I have his pipe he threw overboard. Sometimes I wave it at him from the ocean, and he gets SO mad! It’s the little things.

When I asked his name, he said, “Ahab is Ahab.” But I’m the crazy one. Okay, then.

“Aye, aye! and I'll chase him round Good Hope, and round the Horn, and round the Norway Maelstrom, and round perdition's flames before I give him up.” I ask you. How can I reason with somebody like that? Who am I, God? Oh, wait…

I ate an arm today.

“Ahab did not hear his foreboding invocation; nor yet the low laugh from the hold; nor yet the presaging vibrations of the winds in the cordage; nor yet the hollow flap of the sails against the masts, as for a moment their hearts sank in.” Call me crazy, I think that portends something ominous.

Homerun!

I love this bot.

The Whale May Swallow. Quick Queequeg!

Nantucket isn’t sending me their best.

They keep calling me a fish. I’m not a fish. I’m a mammal. I keep trying to explain—oh, shit, a harpoon!!!

These whalers are Quakers. Friendly persuasion, and all that rot. Yeah, sure thing, sport. But where’s Gary Cooper when you really need him?

His leg didn’t taste that good, even. I mean, I’ve tasted better legs in my day. That’s all I’m saying.

I thought I had a clean sweep. How was I supposed to know Ishmael would pull a coffin buoy out of his pocket. You don’t plan for that.

This is much.

That old man is chasing me with the harpoon again.