Dragoncrest Cliffs First thing I did was climb in to a rum bottle.

Pleased as he felt for surviving the tumult, he did not see the victory of hauling an already dead porpoise (corpus porpoise - ?) to land as narrowed as this. It had been a dire venture that had nearly killed him multiple times. For that it was impressive, maybe. Not the quality of the meat. Not to him, anyway.

When he finally caught his breath he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

The thing must'a dashed itself on the rocks. Maybe it got caught at the wrong time. He put the true ownership of the kill with the sea. Swallowing a mouthful of salted air lined with the vaguest taste of bloated fatty flesh, and Raimo was tempted to roll it back out there again. Nasty sweet-sour flavors hit the back of his throat.

Was a helluva time getting at it. Whatever it is. This would be his cue to pat it across its rotund belly like some kind of used car salesmen. The depression of his palm left an obvious indent.