Right, so the mermaids are up in arms about whales gawking at their chests. "Cover them up!" they declare, as if fish wearing seashell bras wasn’t already the most impractical swimwear known to mythology. But the punchline? It was never the whales. It was a starfish all along.
This is prime War and Peas nonsense — the art style is crude, the logic is absurd, and yet somehow it works. The mermaids spend three panels being offended on behalf of their modesty, completely oblivious that the real culprit is a sea star whose body plan happens to resemble a pair of ogling eyes and a bunch of boobs. Classic misdirection.
Moral of the story: sometimes the pervert was the friends we made along the way. Or the starfish. Probably the starfish.
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