My take on the killer orca goes a little like this:

Orca1: I'm through with this gig. I want out.
Orca2: Yeah, this is getting old . . .
Orca3: But they give us food.

Orca1: As if that were enough. I've been eyeing some of those
seals in the morning show . . . they look damned tasty. I'm outta here.
I'm not doing a thing they say for the next week. That will make them
think about releasing me.

Orca2: Yeah, no whale games. I'm not bouncing any more balls. Do
I look like Flipper to you? I'm a Killer Whale, dammit! Uh huh. Next
one of them come up to me with that damn whistle and I'm going all
National Geographic on 'em.

Orca3:But . . .

Orca2:Nah, don't get soft! Work stoppage - tomorrow - first show. WHO'S WITH ME?

Orca1: You know I'm in. Got a little sumpthin' for 'em tomorrow.

Orca3: I don't know . . .

Orca1: Shut up before I eat you!

Orca2:Damn, that's harsh. BTW, trainers taste like chicken.
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