Gary the gurnard laid silently in the basket, in the darkness, wrapped up in paper surrounded by squid and shrimp and other dead sea animals. Playing dead had fooled the people at the fishmarket, but the act would prove useless if he couldn’t find his way out of this goddamn little basket. No trickery keeps a fish alive in a kitchen.
Light. And then a hand grasping for keys came into view. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw flags and rigging and masts. He wasn’t far from the water! He could smell the sea air, he could hear the ringing of bouys, the squawking of gulls and bare feet hitting splintery old docks.
This was his chance, and he took it.
Gary wriggled out of the paper and leapt onto the sidewalk, much to the shock of the woman holding the basket. Her name was Cheryl and she was very average in length and with and tits. A blonde, but not a real one and on days she went to the market she wore the worst clothes she could find in the darkest dampest corner of her closet.
Today was different however. Her trash outfits were in the wash so she was in fact wearing the most expensive evening gown she’d ever had the nerve to purchase. She’d been careful to keep it clean in the market by stealing a clean apron from one of the vendors. But having long since discarded it, now had no protection from the fishy mess that bombarded her after jerking her hand out of the basket.
Cheryl, now quite pissed, lept onto the gurnard and smacked it’s head on the ground, breaking his neck. And as the light faded from Gary’s eyes he heard a ringing.
Cheryl pulled her phone out of her fish stained gown and answered. “Hi, this is Becky?”
“Becky?” said the British walrus on the other line. “I was trying to get through to Cheryl, Cheryl Henny? Is she in?”
“This is a cell phone”
“Oh.” said the confused marine mammal, twisting his bushy mustache with a flipper.
“So there’s like, nobody gonna be here, but the person who owns the phone.”
“I see” he said, licking a tusk before putting a cigar in his mouth. “Well, if you hear from Cheryl, do be sure to tell her that her father will most likely die in the matter of a couple days or maybe less.”
“WHAT? What happened?” said Cheryl, nervously biting the gurnard’s face.
“Oh, I don’t know, but it’s probably pretty bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the woods behind his home they found an awful lot of blood belonging to your father. And a few organs, most of them the useful kind that one would require to make living possible. They are still good however, but they won’t be much use to him if he’s dead. So if he’s not found in 48 hours we’re going to have to give them to someone else. ”
“Oh, alright, I’ll give Cheryl the message.” screamed Cheryl as she rubbed fish guts onto her face, letting the juices drip down onto her normal-looking boobs.
Later that evening Cheryl packed up her clothing and toilet items in a bag of yellow ostritch leather adorned with peacock feathers and polished turquoise snaps; a gift from an American Indian sex wizard who’s life she’d saved years ago. She thought of him and the many adventures they went on as she placed her travel-tomohawk in the bag; another gift, but not from him…