First off, 'une orque' may be grammatically incorrect. I really have no idea when it comes to the pretty French language. I found that on my last visit to France that most of the tolerant locals were amused by my strained attempts to speak their language---I was like a bear who'd been taught to ride a bicycle: clumsy and awkward, but at least offering a crude similacrum of actual human behavior. I was pleased to have any attention paid to me at all, which is sad, I know, but it is a sad and awkward life for an unreformed class clown such as myself.
Anyway, this article is in English. It reminds me of Marineland, where the story I wrote many moons ago was set ... well, not really (that's for the Marineland lawyers).
Funny story: a few years ago I thought it would be cool to get a job at Marineland. I thought maybe I could actually be a whale trainer. That would be cool, right? If you take out the whole whale-imprisonment thing ...
It would probably have ended with me as the fish-cutter, gutting hundreds of pounds of mackerel to feed the whales instead of, y'know, actually doing much of interest with those lovely creatures. But anyway, I applied, but I made the crucial mistake of sending a copy of my book in with the application. I thought they'd get a kick out of it. But of course the story that is loosely-based on my time working at Marineland (8 summers or so) involves a whale trainer getting his leg bit off by an irate killer whale (I guess "he" will become "she" in the film).
So anyway, the HR person told me to go piss up a rope. As IF they wanted to hire some slandering prick like me! Well, I wasn't slandering because of course the events of the story never actually happened. But anyway, a bad idea. When my dad found out what I'd done he was like: "My god, Craig, how do you even get out of bed in the morning? How do you tie your shoes or guide forkfuls of food into your mouth? I mean, sometimes you're just that dumb."
Marion playing with a whale
All best, Craig.