Ficlets

don the catfish

Fluffy and the snake looked aghast at my action. “What are you doing?’, hissed the snake, for once foregoing his annoying bad accents. “Do you know who that is?”

“What do you mean, ‘Do I know who that is?’. IT is a FISH … A fish that knows more about me than I want a fish stuck in a tank under the second base of Yankee Stadium to know.”, I said, turning to the ladder to leave. “I have had it!!”

Suddenly, the hatch/base slammed shut and ominous “Godfather” music began piping in from hidden speakers.

“Jocinda,”, said the snake. “You are messing with Hunter’s Catfish.”, he whispered.

The dark was kind of spooky and the music wasn’t helping but I still didn’t catch what the snake was saying.

“What?”, I said, wishing there was some more erudite way to ask that.

“I am Hunter’s Catfish.”, the catfish said.

I looked in surprise to the tank behind me. A low light had come on which focused on the tank and the catfish was speaking into an intercom which had been lowered into the water.

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