Fish-Baby, a Children’s Tale
There once was a woman who made love to a fish. From this union was produced a fish baby, which was then named “Fish-baby.” Because it was a fish baby. Fucking duh.
Fish-baby went to a regular school, and not like, a school of fish, cause honestly just being in a bunch of fish doesn’t teach you a god damned thing about life. Like did you know you have to pay taxes on E-bay income? I bet they didn’t teach that bullshit in fish school. So no, Fish-baby went to people school like a God damned American.
So nobody liked Fish-baby because he smoked cigarettes and was a baby; also he smelled like fish and that’s how you use a semi-colon (I think (seriously, it’s not).) He wanted to go to the dance so that maybe he could rub himself against a girl and form an erection, but he didn’t have any prospects. Also, he was poor as fuck.
So there Fish-baby was sitting there in class playing DS, when like the hottest girl in the world walked in. She also had very large breasts. Her name was Jailbait-chick, and Fish-baby knew she must one day be his wife. He ran right the fuck out of class and to the video store, and rented every chick-flick he could find. He trained with the
discipline of a samurai.
Jailbait-chick (and her neighbors, and her family, and her pets) awoke the next morning to the sound of a held-over-head boombox. Fish-baby didn’t like a lot of modern music, so he only had the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles “We’re Coming Out Of Our Shells” tour tape, but he blasted that shit to eleven. Jailbait-chick threw a brick at him, but that was more notice than Fish-baby had gotten from a girl before, so he took it on the forehead with relish.
When he awoke in the hospital, he had a new strategy. The movies had to be right, because otherwise women were secretly just as shallow as men, and Fish-baby didn’t want to live in that world.
He moved quickly for a half-fish-baby with a massive bleeding head injury. He found a computer and downloaded sheet music, and used Craigslist to find a band. Then he waited with the band outside the school until Jailbait-chick was finished with cheer practice. Then he rocked the shit out of her.
True, he could only find a polka band, and yes, the only sheet music he could find was for Fergie’s “My Humps,” but honestly it’s the thought that counts? Or not, she kicked him pretty hard in the junk. Still, again, as he rolled around in half-aquatic agony, he remembered the movies. It wasn’t about looks. Even if he was a Fish-baby he COULD win her heart. He stood in midst of high-school hyenas, balled up his
fists, and committed himself to motherfucking love. The die was cast.
He changed his look. No dice.
He wrote her poems. She called him gay.
He pretended to be gay. She called him gay, but was nicer about it.
He told her he wasn’t gay. She said she knew that, but she just wanted to be friends.
He asked when they could hang out as friends. She bumped him down to acquaintance.
He held her hand when the jocks broke her heart and hymen (but she still wouldn’t kiss him.)
He tried to be the man she wanted, but ya know, he was still ugly as fuck.
So Fish-baby just said fuck it and ate the shit out of everybody.
Will Ross is a writer and satirist living in Omaha, NE in the United States. He enjoys bright colors, flashing lights and shiny objects. You can find more of his writing at http://contributor.yahoo.com/user/willross.