Milton, the Green Whale
by Pilliard Dickle

One day a long time ago a little green whale was swimming to and fro underneath the frothy waves of the North Atlantic. Above him the sun shone crisply in a clear blue sky, and one lone boat bobbled in the water. But this was a world the little green whale could never know, save for an occasional glimpse.

The little green whale was on his way to see his therapist, but on the way he decided to swim to and fro for a bit, because he loved swimming to and fro. (Actually he liked swimming fro the best, but in order to swim fro he had to swim to, or fro became simply a straight line.)

He was a little late arriving at his therapist, due to all the swimming to and fro. His therapist was a big blue whale, a whale all the other whales came to when they were troubled or going through a divorce, or something of that nature.

What was troubling the little green whale was that he was little. And green. All the other whales he knew were big and blue (except for this one medium-sized gray whale down the street, and this one tiny mauve-colored whale he saw one time on a field trip to a neighboring land the whales called “That Part of the Ocean Over Yonder”).

“So, how are you doing today?” asked the big blue whale when the little green whale swam into the area of water the big blue whale called his office.

“Fine,” said the little green whale. He always said he was fine, whether he was or not, because he didn’t like to burden other whales with his problems.

“I mean how are you doing with being little and green?” said the big blue whale, hovering in the water facing the little green whale.

“Well, I still wish I were bigger,” replied the little green whale. “And bluer. Or at least less green.”

The little green whale was listing to one side as he spoke.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a couch,” said the big blue whale. “But feel free to swim upsdie down while we talk, if it makes you more comfortable.”

“That’s ok,” said the little green whale. “I get water up my nose. I’ll just list to one side a little if that’s ok.”

“You know, most whales think they’re too fat,” the big blue whale pointed out. “They’d give an eye tooth to be as svelte as you.”

“What’s ‘svelte’?” said the little green whale, puzzled. “And what’s an ‘eye tooth’? And what’s a ‘couch’?”

“How do you know you’re little?” asked the big blue whale. “How do you know you’re green?”

“LOOK at me,” said the little green whale.

“Ah, but can one truly be existentially certain of anything?” asked the big blue whale, holding up one fin. “How do you know you’re even a whale? I mean, you could be another creature entirely, and just THINK you’re a little green whale.”

“Hmmm. No, I’m pretty sure I’m a little green whale,” said the little green whale after a moment of contemplation.

“Ah,” said the big blue whale. “ ‘Pretty sure.’ But what if you’re wrong? What if we all are? You could be a mythical creature that lives above us, and walks erect on solid ground. Let’s say a ‘human’ - just to throw together a few nonsensical phonems for the purpose of illustrating this hypothetical point.”

“And what would YOU be?”

“Well, I guess I’d be your therapist. Maybe my name is Dr. Friedrich Ryerson, and maybe you're a nine-year-old boy named Milton, and maybe we both exist as whales in a story you wrote for me while you were sitting in the waiting room to illustrate your insecurities about wanting to fit in with other people.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said the little green whale. “But I do like the name Milton. Maybe that could be MY name. Yes, I want to be a Milton. Milton, the little green whale.”