Humans, you greedy little pee hoarders.

I see you, sitting atop your beach chairs, chugging your Fantas and Faygos, adding to that bladder treasure trover you guard like a smelly sunburnt Smaug. You stockpile piss like a poor dog who finally saved up enough to visit the fire hydrant museum, but soon as you feel my sting on your foot, you’re eager to relieve the pain of my desire. As a jellyfish I may be 98% water, it is with the 2% of my person that I deeply wish someone would pee on me for once.

What a cruel fate it is that the one cure for my touch is the urine I yearn for. From my surf I have seen scores of humans leak upon the sores left by my brothers, all of who dried up chasing their dreams. We jellyfish are a proud non-polyp form of the phylum Cnidaria, and boy do we love getting pissed on. Just covered in the yellow stuff. It’s in our nature, just as yours is to pee. I dream of a day when these two paths can cross, and hope I do not wash ashore to be poked by a fat child with a stick before I awaken.

Jellyfish Inline

If there is a God, he is surely a human, for the jellyfish God would not be as big of a dick. To make the solution for our stings, our only method of communication, the only thing we may use to say “Hello sir or madam, would you kindly piss me to Valhalla?”, to brush us off like brainless, boneless, heartless perverts and have us watch as you drench your wound in wee, rather than on me. That is a hell only the jellys know.

When we beach ourselves, it is not solely because we lack the biological tools to control our movement. It is because we see Mount Olympus at the back of the beach. The port-o-potty. Born of fire and unknown blue goo, you humans flock to it rather than drain yourself in my ocean. As such you doom us jellyfish to the fate of Icarus, desperate to climb closer to our liquid sun.

You snicker, and call me a dirty fish for having such thoughts. Well you are wrong, I am not a fish, and about the second thing. To a jellyfish, you humans are but pee factories, yet you mock us for wanting to wallow in your whiz. Jellyfish don’t have digestive, central nervous, respiratory, or circulatory systems. You are meat that makes pee. To us, you guys are seriously disgusting on every level, except for one. Number one.

Luke Strickler is a writer in New York City and a person everywhere else. He’s head of gags at Boys Night Videos and has written for everywhere that lets him.@Luke_Strickler.

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