I have had the same job for decades now. Not that I'm complaining. I think I am singularly qualified to be a spokes-whale. Only once has my job security ever been called into question. My boss threatened to let me go. So I asked him who would replace me. I asked him if he had another talking whale in the wings. He got mad and stormed off. That was a while ago, when I was still adjusting to New York. Now if anyone calls me out I just push them into a wall or sit on them. If they get behind me, I can always expel whale air on them.

Today was like any other day. I got to work at eleven or so and complained about a backache. My bed can give me fits sometimes. Anyway, I am used to the looks of envy from other people in the office. But you know what? They don't have to special order their boxer shorts from Gibraltor. I do.

Usually the first thing I do when I get to work is walk around and nod at people. They almost always nod back. Then, once I've done that, I go to the refrigerator and clean that puppy out. Easter Cakes. Carvelanches. Whatever is in there goes into my belly.

Then I go to lunch for three or four hours. Unless I have to make an appearance somewhere, in which case I will keep my lunch to only two hours. Now you may be thinking, jeez, you sure do eat a lot. Well, I have no problem agreeing to that. I am a whale after all. I can eat six hundred pounds of plankton without batting a giant whale eyeball. I like to go to Central Park and sample the vendors. Then I wander around for a bit. Scare the horses. Jump out of bushes as people bicycle by. I like to ask muggers for change. They usually scream and run around in circles. It's fun!

Then, about three thirty or so, I'll return to my office and go through my emails. I get a lot of emails from people the world over. I am the face of Carvel and Carvel spreads ice cream love throughout the world. Having said all of that, I never return email. I was not born with fingers or thumbs. And fins can't push the keys on a keyboard with any precision at all. So I just read my email.

Then I walk around and nod some more...

As for perks of the job, I have billions of frequent flyer miles that I've built up from my trips to Planet Birthday, where my good friend Cookie Puss lives. That's several light years from here and I insist on first class.

Well, there you have it. That's the life of a spokes-whale. Pretty grim I admit. Bit I can't imagine doing anything else.