Narwhals Are Actually Unicorns of Death

Nowadays, you don't really hear people say, "Remember to brush your teeth, else the narwhals will getcha." And I bet five bucks you've never heard anyone say, "Remember to keep the stapler on the table; otherwise, the unicorns'll stab ya a good one."

That's cuz no one has. ~Until now.~ Oooooh, tell me more.

If you insist.

☷☵☷

Once upon a time, in a faraway land that's not actually that far away but I don't remember the name of and don't feel like looking up, there lived a little unicorn by the name of Emily. She'd seen a few things in her time, what with being a few thousand years old. Sure, she was small, but her diminutive size was no measure for her infinite wisdom.

Emily lay down on the ground, staring out at the restless ocean meeting the weathered shore with her head resting on her front legs. She blew her shaggy mane out of her friendly black eyes and hummed a cheerful tune of quiet relaxation.

"What's the difference between lying and laying*?" came a voice from the entrance of her peaceful, quiet, undisturbed cave. A head poked around the entrance to her (apparently not-so-hidden) hideaway, one eyebrow raised in question.

Emily sighed the sigh of those who knew their noon tea would always be interrupted by some fool who didn't know that the difference between lying and laying lies in the difference between being a puppy and killing one. "One's used with the subject, the other with the direct object," replied the lone unicorn.

"Thanks!" called the visitor, and off she went, skipping merrily down the beach that met the rocky face of Emily's island.

"People," Emily sighed, resting her head once again on her front legs, resuming her position. She tapped a beat on the ground with her hoof, expressing her annoyance at having been interrupted once again by someone who didn't know how basic language worked.

"Wait so what do you mean, 'subject and direct object?'" The stranger once again stuck her head around the mouth of the cave with an embarrassed smile on her face.

"THE THING THAT'S DOING THE THING AND THE THING THAT'S HAVING THE THING DONE TO IT."

"So like... Does, 'he lay down the book' work? Because the subject is verbing the book? And the book would be the direct object, so you use 'lay'?"

"If he is the thing that's doing the thing and the book is the thing having the thing done to it, then yes."

"Coolio. Thanks again!"

"Yeah, no worries."

And that's when Emily got a genius idea. She was always being interrupted by stupid mortals who thought that going to a mysterious cave on the shore of some weird island in the middle of nowhere was a good way to spend their holiday weekend. They also asked the dumbest questions. Emily clear-as-day wasn't Google and all she wanted to do was take a quiet nap without some poor sunburnt sap showing up at her door and asking her about the subjunctive.

"Ah-HA!!" Emily cried triumphantly, jumping swiftly to her feet in a sudden burst of inspiration. She rushed to the sea's edge and looked down. Her horn's reflection gleamed on the water, and she grinned a horsey grin. "I'll scare up a creature to chase away anyone coming along with a stupid question like 'who's the Queen of England?'" (This happened once and in a fit of righteous indignation Emily had answered, 'Henry VIII' and spent the rest of the afternoon worrying--perhaps unnecessarily--that she'd accidentally caused someone to fail their history test).

From the depths of the green ocean, Emily created a terrifyingly cute animal. It was big, and white with speckles, and looked kind of dead from far away. It had four short, fin-like legs, which it used to swim around awkwardly. A large tusk protruded from its mouth, which wasn't quite a horn and wasn't quite a tooth.