Diary of a Frank Young Fish
I was desperate for a Rock Hard Subwitch with a dry seaweed sider. My mouth had turned dry with hunger. So I dumped my assignment halfway and swam for 15 minutes to the closest Submarine Fast Food center.
I ate like a blue whale that day, that’s putting it mildly to be honest. I gulped it all down and then washed it down with sweet sea soda. My appetite may have suddenly sprung up on me because I hadn’t eaten in 3 days. I wasn’t on any kind of diet or something, it’s just that habitually I eat once in two days when driven mad by hunger pangs. Also I was a picky eater. I didn’t like my seaweed deep fried. I didn’t like plastic. Plastic was a craze among many young fish. Some fish also loved oil. But it would drive them into insanity if taken excessively. So we had an Oil Anonymous Center for addicted Oil drinkers. Some fish enjoyed smoking weed too. I however didn’t enjoy these things.
My boyfriend was due today. He had gone southeast to catch some sun. Doctor Waterworth had suggested that he needed some sunshine to improve his fin strength. He has dislocated his fin during a rough game of Fin ball. I was worried sick though, by his absence. The south East Sea was a fishing zone and also a place where the elite White Sharks lived. They hunted us for fun, sometimes they’d eat us and sometimes they’d just make us slaves in their weed plantations. My Uncle Tom, it is rumored, was abducted and made a slave.
I tried to overcome my worry by venturing to the library. Our library wasn’t the biggest of its kind. The jellyfish community had a bigger one. Ours was decent though. Our library had racks and racks of wrecked boats dating as early as the 12th century. I’d love to swim in and out of the crevices of the old wrecked boats drinking in their history and imagining how they may have looked during their glory days. So yeah, you guessed right, we don’t have books in our libraries for obvious reasons, paper would get all soggy underwater. So we have stories and history and mythology all written across the body of all ships and boats. Someday I want to visit the Bermuda Triangle library. I’ve heard it has so many wrecked boats that the pile of them is taller than the Mount Everest. It is believed that climbing to the top of this pile is the closest we can get to the Human Gods. However oxygen is very sparse up there.
I reached the library and swam around the boat which was wrecked against the rocks and whose few debris floated ashore and the rest sunk into our library. We have planes as well, some of them are so intact that the skeletal passengers are still rooted in their seats. One such intact plane (when I say intact I meant, a merely broken wing) has the words “Malaysian Airlines” written across it.
You may be wondering how I learnt to read. Our ancestors, according to the holy book of the Waterbile, migrated to the sunny shores and were taken by the Human Gods. The human Gods kept them in glass cases and taught them to read and write. One of our ancestors, the prophet Jesusfish returned and gave us lessons the human gods taught him. But the Sharks were jealous and impaled him on a barbecue stick. Since then, his teachings spread like tidal waves and all over the seas, fish learnt to read and write. We keep a symbol of a fish in our home. It’s a sign of Jesusfish. ♋️
My boyfriend arrived on a Pulsar Racing Surfboard. He was happy to be back and his fin strength had returned. Also, he had acquired a degree at the South East Sea. He was now a Master of Blue Sea Administering. So he would easily get a job in administering the library or the security against white shark invasions.
It was a happy day, but as the blue sea turned black, and the golden furious ball sunk like the wrecked boats, I shuddered and coiled my fin in my boyfriend’s fin. We retreated to the depths of our Immaculate Clownfish colony and he began to tell me stories of his days in south East Sea.
I jealously asked him about the girls-fish there, and he told me they had sword faces and were generally scary. I slept happily that night.
I ate like a blue whale that day, that’s putting it mildly to be honest. I gulped it all down and then washed it down with sweet sea soda. My appetite may have suddenly sprung up on me because I hadn’t eaten in 3 days. I wasn’t on any kind of diet or something, it’s just that habitually I eat once in two days when driven mad by hunger pangs. Also I was a picky eater. I didn’t like my seaweed deep fried. I didn’t like plastic. Plastic was a craze among many young fish. Some fish also loved oil. But it would drive them into insanity if taken excessively. So we had an Oil Anonymous Center for addicted Oil drinkers. Some fish enjoyed smoking weed too. I however didn’t enjoy these things.
My boyfriend was due today. He had gone southeast to catch some sun. Doctor Waterworth had suggested that he needed some sunshine to improve his fin strength. He has dislocated his fin during a rough game of Fin ball. I was worried sick though, by his absence. The south East Sea was a fishing zone and also a place where the elite White Sharks lived. They hunted us for fun, sometimes they’d eat us and sometimes they’d just make us slaves in their weed plantations. My Uncle Tom, it is rumored, was abducted and made a slave.
I tried to overcome my worry by venturing to the library. Our library wasn’t the biggest of its kind. The jellyfish community had a bigger one. Ours was decent though. Our library had racks and racks of wrecked boats dating as early as the 12th century. I’d love to swim in and out of the crevices of the old wrecked boats drinking in their history and imagining how they may have looked during their glory days. So yeah, you guessed right, we don’t have books in our libraries for obvious reasons, paper would get all soggy underwater. So we have stories and history and mythology all written across the body of all ships and boats. Someday I want to visit the Bermuda Triangle library. I’ve heard it has so many wrecked boats that the pile of them is taller than the Mount Everest. It is believed that climbing to the top of this pile is the closest we can get to the Human Gods. However oxygen is very sparse up there.
I reached the library and swam around the boat which was wrecked against the rocks and whose few debris floated ashore and the rest sunk into our library. We have planes as well, some of them are so intact that the skeletal passengers are still rooted in their seats. One such intact plane (when I say intact I meant, a merely broken wing) has the words “Malaysian Airlines” written across it.
You may be wondering how I learnt to read. Our ancestors, according to the holy book of the Waterbile, migrated to the sunny shores and were taken by the Human Gods. The human Gods kept them in glass cases and taught them to read and write. One of our ancestors, the prophet Jesusfish returned and gave us lessons the human gods taught him. But the Sharks were jealous and impaled him on a barbecue stick. Since then, his teachings spread like tidal waves and all over the seas, fish learnt to read and write. We keep a symbol of a fish in our home. It’s a sign of Jesusfish. ♋️
My boyfriend arrived on a Pulsar Racing Surfboard. He was happy to be back and his fin strength had returned. Also, he had acquired a degree at the South East Sea. He was now a Master of Blue Sea Administering. So he would easily get a job in administering the library or the security against white shark invasions.
It was a happy day, but as the blue sea turned black, and the golden furious ball sunk like the wrecked boats, I shuddered and coiled my fin in my boyfriend’s fin. We retreated to the depths of our Immaculate Clownfish colony and he began to tell me stories of his days in south East Sea.
I jealously asked him about the girls-fish there, and he told me they had sword faces and were generally scary. I slept happily that night.
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ReplyDeleteI always knew that there was something really fishy about the disappearance of the Malaysian Airlines
ReplyDelete