Jellyfish Of The Old West

So, you wanna know how I lost my tentacles, do ya? Well, I'll tell you. I remember it like it was yesterday... I was sittin' right about here, in front of Thomas' General Store. Of course, back in those days I warn't in no rockin' chair, no sir- I was a young polyp back then. I had a nematocyte on my hip and a chip on my shoulder- I was out to show the world that there warn't no jellyfish in the entire sea who was tougher 'n me. I was young, then. Unseasoned. I thought I knew what tough was, but I didn't know tough from a hole in the ground. But that day, I learned what tough was. The hard way.

Now, the feller who drifted into town didn't talk much, but then again, he didn't need to. As soon as the outline of his pneumatophore showed up over the horizon, every planula and medusa in the town went running for cover. Heck, even the sheriff ducked into his office and locked the door. The bartender, the stablehands, the barber- they all hid. But not me. I was too stupid to be scared, and too proud to ask what was going on. Dumb and defiant, I leaned against this here general store, tentacles out, practically begging for a fight. Well, I got one.

See, what you can't tell about a Portuguese Man O'War when you see one for the first time is how darned big they are. A lot of folks used to think they were plain old jellyfish, just like you, me, and everyone you know. But let me tell you- that ain't the case. Those things are siphonophores- gigantic colonies of little critters, you see? That means that they're a hundred times bigger and a hundred times meaner than any feller can be on his own, and they ain't afraid to prove it, neither. That hulking hydrozoan drifted right up to me- I was the only fool left out in the open- and before I could open the orifice that I use both for feeding and the extrusion of waste, that sucker stung me six ways past sunday. He pumped my mesoglea so full of venom that I was paralyzed. Normally, I'd have fired a couple stinging nettles of my own right back at him, but my primitive nervous system had almost completely shut down. He left me just alive enough that I'd have to watch as he began to digest me, but not so alive that I could do anything about it. It was terrible.

I sat there, ocelli transfixed on the gruesome sight before me. I watched the bastard bluebottle as he ate my first tentacle. Then another. Then another. I thought I was done for, and you can imagine that I was really kicking myself for being so arrogant and naive. But then, salvation came. Now, I ain't much of a religious jelly- I never took well to no churchin' and I never felt possessed by the spirit- but when I saw that sea turtle rear up behind that dirty ol' Man O'War, I felt like throwing my remaining tentacles in the air and singing "hallelujah!" In one swift move, that turtle snatched my attacker up in his beak, flapped a flipper and took off. I was stunned- mostly from the huge amounts of venom in me, but also from how suddenly everything had happened.

Later on, everybody would talk about how brave I was, that I had stood my ground against a Portuguese desperado, and no matter how much I protested that without that turtle I would have been done for nobody would listen. Pretty soon, everybody all but forgot about that turtle, and I had become the hero of the day- but I would never forget. I've got these here stubby tentacles to remind me. So let this be a lesson to you, young feller- as tough as you think you are, there's always gonna be somethin' out there that's tougher than you. Now then- hand me that glass of lemonade and I'll tell you about the time a smack of marauding moon jellies rolled into town. I remember it like it was yesterday...