The Day The Cetus Went Vegan

The cetus opened one yellow eye and surveyed her underwater home. There were bones everywhere, wigs and robes strewn across her coral bed. What the fuck happened last night?

She groaned. Another binge. A big one. A whole city wrecked. Hundreds of people devoured. She felt as rough as Hades.

And she had her annual check up with the doctor fish this morning.

When she finally dragged her scaly carcass there, half an hour late, the old trout lectured her about BMI and cholesterol and cutting back on fatty foods. The cetus felt like slashing the fish’s throat with her razor-sharp claws, but then she caught sight of herself in the mirror, her torso bulging with rolls of flab. Had she always been this big?

On her way home, through currents as stormy as her mind, the sea monster eyed the mermaids as they sat on their clam shells, combing out their hair. They always looked so sleek and slender, but today they seemed even more gorgeous than usual. Word had it they’d all just become vegan.

Sure enough, as the cetus and her throbbing head dawdled past, a flaxen-haired beauty spouted off about how she had so much energy, how her locks were so shiny and her skin so plump, all thanks to her new diet.

The cetus wanted to bite the mermaid’s head off. But for once she quelled her bloodthirsty impulses. It wouldn’t do anything to solve her problems. Besides, the monster was desperate for something – anything – to help change her image. Why not veganism?

She decided it was worth a try. A new life – a new her – started today.

So instead of trying to eat them, she gave the mermaids a rare smile as she swam past, flicking her tail cheerfully. She was too excited to notice the way they cowered when they saw her sharp teeth.

After a morning nibbling on sea kelp, though, the cetus was feeling unsatisfied. Meat was just so damn tasty. She was fighting down hunger pangs when Poseidon’s horn rang through the ocean – a sure sign that something delicious had been served up for dinner.

The cetus couldn’t help herself. She popped up to the surface, somewhere near Greece, to have a look at what was on the menu. A naked girl was lashed to a rock, a gift in chains. White-tipped waves seethed at her feet, spraying up into her beautiful but terrified face. Thunder rumbled louder than the cetus’s belly. The girl must’ve done something really bad to make Poseidon this pissed off.

Saliva flooded the sea monster’s mouth as the girl screamed and strained at her chains. Yet the creature hesitated.

The old cetus would’ve demolished the girl in moments, then gone for seconds among the crowd gathered on the stony shore. But this was the new, improved, vegan cetus.

She bit back her hunger and prepared to dive back into the depths. The meal looked bony, she told herself. And she was never going to get a tail fin like a mermaid’s if she crumbled at the first sign of temptation.

Just then, there was a beat of wings and a shout from the sky above. The cetus looked up to see a muscle-bound man approaching on a sodding flying horse. She could tell, from the way the beast flicked its mane, that it fancied itself. It was probably as self-obsessed as those bloody mermaids. And the man looked just as bad, with his shirt off and his pecs oiled.

For Poseidon’s sake. The cetus had had enough of beautiful creatures. She was hungover. She was hangry. She wasn’t putting up with this shit any longer.

With a cry, she raised herself up and lashed her tail through the air, hitting the horse with a satisfying crack and sending the man sprawling into the ocean.

On the shore, people screamed and threw missiles, which bounced harmlessly off the cetus’s hefty torso. For once, it paid to be big. The sea monster grabbed the nearest man in her jaws and bit off his head. Blood and brains trickled down her throat.

She gasped.

It tasted absolutely delicious.

In a frenzy, the cetus picked off the juiciest, plumpest men from the crowd, while others ran for cover. Their cries were like a soaring symphony. The monster’s banging headache began to abate as she chomped through bone and sinew, enjoying every bite. Why had she denied herself this pleasure?

A splashing interrupted her reverie. The cetus turned to see the muscle-bound man flailing towards her through the water. This guy didn’t know when to quit. He was fiddling with the drawstrings of a sodden bag, but the cetus didn’t wait to see what was inside. She thundered at him, massive jaws open, and swallowed him in one go. The bag disappeared under the frothing waves, which by now were red with blood.

The cetus gave a satisfied burp. Eating flesh was what she lived for. She was never going vegan again. Fuck BMI and cholesterol and all that shit. She was the cetus. She was supposed to be huge and scaly and terrifying. And any mermaid who had a problem with that could shove her comb up her arse.

The bony girl on the rock was still screaming, but the cetus ignored her. She’d already had her fill. She dived back under the water, towards home, enjoying the ripple of her muscles, the strength of her tail, as she powered deeper and deeper.

THE END

BIO: Madeleine Armstrong has won the Hammond House short story prize, and been published by Bunker Squirrel, Flash Fiction Magazine, Fussub, Hooghly Review, LISP, Moonflake, Micromance, Punk Noir, Trash Cat Lit, Underbelly Press, Waffle Fried and WestWord. She's a journalist and runner, and lives in London with her husband, son and two cats. Twitter/X @Madeleine_write; Bluesky @madeleinewrite.bsky.social