Political Animals

"The question," said the representative from the Arachno-Communist party, "is whether you even understand how badly your platform is beholden to the corporate interests.  The entire system is corrupted."  She groomed her mandibles superciliously.

"Look," said the DemoRatic diplomat, twitching his whiskers, "I didn't come here to trade political barbs.  There is a serious that affects us both, and it would be in everyone's interest if your people could provide some material support to the war effort."

"They're here!" shrieked an excitable shrew from the hallway.  Something splashed, the sound of moist limbs in jackboots.  "The Fishists are coming!"

What is Necessary

Sorry about the delay, everyone. Between the holiday and illness, the week was an almost total wash for me. We should be able to carry on normally from here on out, though.

---

The fish had given him three wishes. "Well, I don't know," he'd said. "As long as I've got a roof over my head and food on my table, I don't really need much more."

"Is that one wish or two?" The fish sounded perturbed, but she'd been pretty irritable to begin with.

"Call it two. I'll save the last one for a rainy day."

Sometimes, the man liked to spend a few minutes daydreaming about his final wish. It was a nice way to pass the time.

And the days flowed on like waves on the surface of the waters...

Technically, He's the Janitor

"Oh, crap." Phineas peered sideways at the caller ID. Phineas had peered sideways at everything since he hit puberty, being a flounder.

"Don't tell me a school pulled in," said Otto. Six of his tentacles were cooking seven different orders.

Phineas quivered. "Old Man Crenshaw wants delivery."

"I thought he got banned."

"The year's up. We've lost four delivery-fish already," Phineas said. "That shark is a menace."

Otto considered. "What about Foogie?"

"Puffer venom doesn't work on sharks."

"Does Crenshaw know that? Anyway, what else does Foogie do?"

"That's a thought," said Phineas. "Hey, Foogie! You wanna make ten dollars?"

Gift of the Sea

When the town was founded, the fish schooled thick enough to walk on. Stick a pole in the water, and it would stand up as if sunk in sand. We barely needed boats.

The fish were a gift, the traditions told us. We must be worthy of it.

We laughed at the idea. What would fish care about a little cheating, a little theft, a little blood spilled on land they never touched until they died, drowning in air?

Then the fish were gone. Nobody knew where.

We had no other industry.

We thought we knew sin. We were wrong.

Something in a Prince Charming

"Look, Magic Fish, I don't think you understand," said Sven.  His ear flaps were undone, and the three smiling women were already sliding their hands into his down jacket.  They seemed unbothered by the frigid cold, despite their state of undress.

"You wished for love," said the fish, floating in the circle of dark water.  "Are they not beautiful?"

"Well," Sven coughed unhappily.  "I mean, there's other sorts of love, if you follow me."

The fish splashed vaguely.  "I don't even have external genitalia.  I don't have a clue what you mammals get so excited about in the first place."

Pop!

Geisteskrank sprinkled shredded grass into the aquarium. "Have you never heard of hybrid vigor? Everyone knows that you can revive a flagging bloodline by introducing new stock."

"I think that's usually with something a little closer," said Bartlett. "Remind me again how this is better than the gerbil-cobras?"

"Gerbils, while sufficiently adorable, were a sub-optimal base. High-strung. These," Geisteskrank gestured, "are inherently useful. Fugu, of course, is eminently popular in Japan, and beef has long been a staple meat."

"And therefore?"

Geisteskrank clapped sharply, and water sloshed onto the floor as black-and-white flesh pressed taut against the glass. "Puffer Holsteins."

Trail-Lore

"Mind the rats," said Clem. He gestured with a gloved hand.

"Ugh." Teodor would have recoiled, save that recoiling would put him in contact with the wall. "God, what kind of animals actually live down here?"

"Oh, all sorts," said Clem. "Rats an' roaches, 'course, and fishies folks flush down the shitter."

"Alligators?" asked Teodor, smiling again, though still rather wan. "Should be be on guard?"

"Eh." Clem waggled a hand in a 'maybe' gesture. "The real bigguns keep outta sight. Biggest worry we got right now..." A ripple swirled past in the murky liquid their headlamps illuminated. "...is sharks."