I wish Animal Planet or the Discovery Channel would hire my husband J. to narrate their wildlife shows. He has a penchant for reimagining animal encounters as if they took place in Ice Cube's old neighborhood.
A few weeks ago, one of those channels aired a special on whales, and J. got sucked in. Apparently, a mother whale who was traveling with her calf got some unwanted attention from two aggressive, skirt-chasing males. According to J., a more gentlemanly third male intervened on her behalf, though he had his own agenda. The way he recounted the tale was way more entertaining than the official version could have been:
"So one of the whales was like, 'Hey there, girl. Can I holler at you for a minute? You're kinda fine. You got a man?' And this other whale was like, "Look bro, let her through. She's just a single mom out here trying to make it. Ease up.' And then the first whale and his boy got in his face, like, 'What? Oh, it's like that? You ain't shit.' Then the gentleman whale got back with him, like, 'Oh, I ain't shit? Watch this.' And then it was on. But the first two whales couldn't beat the third one because they weren't working together. They were both too busy trying to get a piece for themselves, and while they were scrapping, momma and the kid swam away. It was crazy."
I really wish I had recorded his commentary after we watched "March of the Penguins."
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