One day Pablo was walking down the street

One day Pablo was walking down the street to his local McDonalds, just as he had been every day of his life for 5 years straight. It's a wonder that he is even alive still.

But the mayor said we could "lift" the whale easily, "Another way." He looked over at Larry who had a truck bed of leftover dynamite. The mayor said, "Let's blow the whale up and

then pick up smaller, easy to manage pieces. Everyone smiled. An hour later, the whale carcass was chock full of dynamite. When the blast went off, the giant skull destroyed my car

but it was worth it. The Island was covered with stinking, rotting, whale blubber. That should keep the damn Summer People of Island for while and since the locals had destroyed

multiple kegs at last night's luau they were still passed out. As they began to rouse they started noticing that the puddles they thought were puke were actually whale guts. After

getting sick a few times Julie had a fuzzy recollection of a man named "Dino Deano" who had brought the explosives to the beach party last night, which had prompted a beach cleanup

and filling in of sand craters near the waterline. There had been some casualties, though—several elaborate sand castles had been leveled, and the sand-artists filed a class-action

on behalf of Sand Mason's Local 37. The major question was if recompense could be rewarded for damages of structures that would erode in property values by the next tide. The jury

consisted of future members of the board from Fannie Mae. They'd recently awarded a little pig who'd built his house from straw & hadn't learned their lesson. To be continued...