Gladys knew that the slippery beast fast approaching her was not your typical dolphin: its intricate teardrop tattoos and vindictive eye glint clearly indicated that it was a notoriously dangerous date rape dolphin from the Delphinus rapis gang. Gladys did the natural thing: she gathered her wits, mustered her strength, grabbed the son of a bitch by the dorsal fin, launched him across the lagoon, and jetskied the hell out of there.
Not a dorsal fin a dolphin does make, but rather an intricate patchwork quilt of tattered emotions, ranging from passion to sadness to longing to fear, which for male dolphins leads to rape and theft and for female dolphins leads to starring in shitty movies about their own tails.
“I have had it up to here,” Dolphy the Dolphin said referring to her dorsal fin. “If I have to deal with one more intricately planned date rape I swear I will lose my shit.’