“This weekend,” I told my audience, “I had a duel with a dolphin.”
“Whaaaa?”  said  everybody else.
Fact: when you live in a motel, you always have the best stories on Monday mornings.
“The Wonderland’s right on the beach,” I told my history class. “So I grew up speaking Dolphin.” I gave a quick demo. “Eeeek squeeeee, klik-klik.” “What’s   that   mean?”  asked   my   bud Bruce
Brandow.
“ ‘I have to go to the bathroom.’ ” “Dolphins  say that?”
“Yep. Then they do it. Right there in the Gulf.
That’s why the water’s so warm.” “Gross,”  said Bruce.
We   were  between  bells,  just  waiting  for  our teacher,  Mr.  Frumpkes, to march in and put us all   to sleep with a barrage of boring facts. It was up to me to spin a story so scintillating it could fight off  the  Frumpkes Funk.
“On Saturday, I was riding the waves, just surfing along—”
“Surfing?” scoffed Adam Shapera, a big guy who always sits in  the  back  of  the  room  so  it’s  easier to flick people’s ears. “Who taught you how to do that?”
“Kevin the Monkey,” said my good friend Gloria Ortega. “Star of the smash hit Beach Party Surf Monkey.”
Unimpressed, Adam blew a lip fart.
I didn’t let Adam slow me down, because everybody else was hanging on my every word, scooching their  seats  closer.
“I was carving across a wave.  Totally cranking.  It was epic. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, this dolphin pops up!”
“The dolphin blew his airhole at me. It sounded like one of Adam Shapera’s lip farts. It spooked me  so much I wiped out.”
“What’d the  dolphin  want?”  asked Bruce.
“To  challenge  me  to  a  friendly  competition.”   I put on my best high-pitched dolphin voice. “ ‘I am Frederick,  the  Dolphin  King.  I  challenge  you   to   a duel!’ ”
“Whoa,” said Bruce. “Just like that Alexander Hamilton dude with that other  dude.”
“Aaron Burr,” said Gloria.
“Exactly,” I said. “But we wouldn’t be dueling with pistols. It’d be unfair. Dolphins don’t have trigger fingers.”
“That’s so true,” said Adam, finally getting into the story with everybody  else.
“We decided on a race,” I said. “From the Gulf waters behind the Wonderland all the way up St. Pete Beach to the Don CeSar Hotel. It’d be me and my board against King Frederick and his mighty flippers. Human against dolphin. Mano a mammalo. I, of course, agreed to King Frederick’s terms. But only because I knew I’d win.”
“How’d you know that?” Adam asked eagerly. “Simple,”  I  told  him.  “I  was  carrying  a secret
weapon!”