Hi there. It’s me—Moby. Or as Ahab and his gang liked to call me, “The White Devil.” Honestly, that title was a bit much. I was just your average whale, living my best life, swimming around, eating squid and krill, maybe breaching the surface once in a while for some fresh air. But no, some human with a grudge decided I was the villain in his little drama. Seriously, folks, let me set the record straight—I’m tired of being the bad guy in this story.

Let’s start with my diet. I was all about simple pleasures: krill and squid. Have you ever tried krill? It’s like the popcorn of the ocean—light, crunchy, and you can eat millions of them in one go. And squid? Oh man, nothing beats a fresh, juicy squid. But did I ever get to enjoy a quiet meal in peace? Nope. Not with humans in their noisy boats constantly interrupting my snack time. I’d be in a krill buffet mid-bite when I’d hear, “There she blows!” Great. Just what I needed—Ahab back on his nonsense.

And every time I come up for air, it’s like a circus down there: “There she blows!” Like, yeah, guys, it’s called breathing. But to them, it’s like I’m some kind of mythical beast emerging from the deep. Newsflash, humans: it’s the most basic thing I do. But nope, they’re all wide-eyed every time like I’m the ocean’s Loch Ness Monster.

Now, let’s clear up the whole leg incident. Total accident. Ahab made it sound like I was plotting to steal his leg, like I had this elaborate whale vendetta. Yeah, right. I bumped his boat once, and the guy lost his leg and his mind. Look, Ahab, you were in my way—I was chasing squid, and your leg just happened to be at the wrong place, wrong time. Could’ve happened to anyone. But did Ahab take it like a reasonable person? Nope. He decided to dedicate his entire life to hunting me down. Man, it was just one leg. Ever heard of yoga, Ahab? Therapy? Maybe take up knitting? But no, full-on revenge mode.

And then, of course, he dragged along his crew on this ridiculous vendetta tour. First, there’s Ishmael. Yeah, the guy who thought it was really important to tell the world, “Call me Ishmael,” as if anyone cared. Thanks to him, I became the most famous whale in history, and not in a good way. He spins this whole yarn about me being this evil sea monster. But did anyone hear my side of the story? Oh right. No.

Then you’ve got Queequeg. Covered head-to-toe in tattoos, looking more like an art exhibit than a harpooner. I don’t get the whole tattoo thing, but I guess it's to each of their own. He looked like he’d been charting the seven seas on his skin. But, hey, he was at least quiet about it. Strong, silent type. No complaints.

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And then there’s Stubb. This guy thought he was hilarious. He always cracked jokes while waving around his harpoon. “Looks like we’re all washed up, boys!” Really, Stubb? The ship’s sinking, and you’re still going for cheap laughs? Timing, man. Timing.

But out of all of them, the only one who had an ounce of sense was Starbuck—not the coffee chain guy, Ahab’s first mate. Starbuck would stand there, listening to Ahab’s rants about his “destiny,” and you could just see the man thinking, “This is a bad idea.” He was like that one coworker who says, “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t,” but nobody listens. Poor guy deserved a raise. Or at least a vacation far away from the sinking ship that was Ahab’s leadership.

Speaking of sinking ships, let’s talk about the “Great White Whale” thing. First of all, I wasn’t even that white. More of an “off-white” or “sea-salt beige,” if you really want to get technical. But leave it to humans to make me sound like some ghostly leviathan out of a nightmare. The ocean’s a big place, folks, and I was just one whale trying to enjoy a squid salad in peace.

And yet, there I was, minding my own business when guess who shows up? That’s right, Captain One-Leg and his merry band of misfits. Ahab’s up on deck, harpoon in hand, shouting something about “from hell’s heart I stab at thee,” and I’m thinking, “Dude, calm down. I’m just trying to swim here.” Honestly, it was like watching Shakespeare at sea. Full-on dramatic monologues while I’m just trying to digest my lunch. Maybe save the theatrics for dry land, Ahab. You're not Hamlet.

Then comes the big moment. Ahab throws his shiny harpoon—full force. And what happens? He gets tangled in his own line. Classic. I didn’t even have to lift a flipper. The guy pretty much harpooned himself. Seriously, if you’re going to dedicate your life to revenge, maybe at least learn how to work a harpoon. Pro tip for next time: don’t let personal grudges ruin your life—or, you know, end it.

And that’s when it all goes downhill. The Pequod starts sinking, Titanic-style, and the crew’s flailing around like, “How did we get here?” I’ll tell you how—bad leadership. Pro tip number two: if your captain has a peg leg and a crazed look in his eye, maybe reconsider following him into battle against a whale. Just saying.

And yet, here we are. If you asked Ishmael, he’d spin it like I was some vengeful force of nature, dead set on destroying humans. Please. I was just a whale trying to mind my own business, avoid these lunatics, and get on with my life. They’re the ones who started it! But no, humans always need a villain. And guess who they chose to play the part? Me.

So yeah, that’s the real story. Ahab was obsessed, his crew were a bunch of enablers, and I was just trying to live my life. Humans—they can’t let things go. Maybe next time, they should worry less about hunting whales and more about keeping their own heads above water. Literally.

And there you have it—the real, untold story, from yours truly, Moby. Just remember: I didn’t sink their ship. They sank themselves.

The end.