You can’t spell “Narwhal” without “naw”
Nuh-uh. No way. No. That shrimp don’t swim.
Go sell that soapstone somewhere else, Nanook, ‘cause this cetacean doesn’t swing that way. No, siree. I think not.
Look, maybe it’s just me. I’ve been accused of being a cold fish from time to time. Which is not really taxonomically accurate, but I take the meaning. And I don’t want to be accused of throwing ice water on this idea just for the sake of it, but let’s be honest—I’m a narwhal. Have you seen where I live? Ice water is basically all I’ve got to offer.
Sure, different strokes for different folks. For me, for example, an up-and-down stroke of the peduncle and flukes. Strictly. That’s how I roll. As for you?
Well, I suppose you’ve do what you’ve gotta do. You’ve made your igloo, now sleep in it. Just know this one thing:
I do not approve.
Wear this shirt: to register your pointed disapproval. Get it? “Pointed?” Get it?
Don’t wear this shirt: swimming with narwhals. Do you know how cold it is in the Arctic Ocean? You’re going to want long sleeves for that, at least.
This shirt tells the world: “T(u)sk, t(u)sk, t(u)sk.”
We call this color: Asphault-Finding
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