Friendly Floatees

       It's been about three years since I've begun my journey; among the seas I was raised by none other than the finest sharks to inherit their strength, and taught by monks of the North Pacific. I have been trained by dolphins, I now know to use that unnecessary hole drilled on the top of my head for the good of humanity. Losing my companions around the depths of the sea has slowed my sail, I spent about six months grieving over Marla. The good die young, as Bill-y Joel once said. Life is nothing more than a perpetuate journey that I must embrace; the few that remain of my colony have set their own sail towards Britain, but I am too attached to this side of the world, I do not crave the shore anymore. We all lived in this bubble, we couldn't go beyond the perimeters, and my only colleague was a moldy bottle of shampoo.
       I strive to be like my ancestors, conquering the world one bill at a time, but to achieve that I must carry on with my training. They shall know me as Billdha, the spiritual one. Bill Duckton, an old friend of mine, once said that in order to get their attentions, all we have to do is speak our voices; I have lost my voice during a traumatizing thunder. I do not need a voice, I have my actions.
       I am Moby Duck.