I'll Never Eat Calamari Again
'Found him,' replies the ensign peering casually out the window.
There lay LEVIATHAN, the tragic result of genetically engineering the supposed DNA of Christ and a mutating sea monster, helplessly struggling under the weight of it's own tentacles. It seems that it's self-replicating nature was it's own downfall. After weeks of searching for this sucker using satellite imagery, state-of-the-art digital multibeam systems and even employing an on board soothsayer and cross-referencing everything with what we know of the bathymetry (sea-floor depth) and backscatter (data that can provide insight into the geologic makeup of the sea floor) of the area we've finally found him by pure chance. I know that LEVIATHAN possesses an insatiable appetite for blood and yet it seems so helpless now. No threat to anyone. As I aim the thermo-nuclear torpedoes at it's struggling form I wonder...What would Jesus do?
'Arm the torpedoes!' I bark.
'I had this dream last night,' starts the Soothsayer.
'I dreamt that the tentacles protruding from the body of LEVIATHAN was another branch of Christianity. Every tentacle, another skewered belief. What was once very simple and beautiful was slowly becoming a creature of horror, spilling much blood for the sake of it's distorted self.'
'Sounds like pure horseshit padre,' I say as I grip the trigger,' LEVIATHAN is a bloated sea creature, pure and simple. It ain't a high school religious education essay.'
Before anyone else can voice their objections I launch the torpedoes into the side of LEVIATHAN. A direct hit!
I blame the peyote,