Livinghigh: Fishtale
Monday, November 29, 2004
Livinghigh was here at 4:24 PM /


Welcome to corn-land. Write a story about it. Write a para, followed by another, and hey presto, you have a chapter. Of strange people who walk on all fours with iron collars around their necks, who go snarling at other people, on their fours, their chains held tight by fish-faced evangelists who speak of the great virtues of the One True God, Pisces.

Imagine a hero, then, a heroine (that's because I must be a romantic, or all hell will break loose), and let us imagine, for an instant, that the genes of humanity have somehow played truant here and there within these two, and they walk on two legs, and use their hands to eat food, put on clothes, brush their teeth, hold things, feel things, caress each other's bodies while making love, in their secluded little cave in a magical forest, hidden from view of the great fish-face city.

A thought-bulb blinks above my head: return to the Planet of the Apes, ala Evil Fishies?

Maybe, maybe... what do you think?

Should I write a story, strange and bizzare, of how our heroic pair are pulled out from their seclusion and forced to fight a war to liberate their lesser brethren, those of the snarling growls and those of the iron collars? Perhaps that tale would let loose a violent history of how humankind exploited fishkind for eons and eons, before intelligent fish rose from the oceans in hordes, and made canned tuna out of the snarling humans, and attached the iron colars to their bony necks...? Would you weep then, in passion, a part of you sympathetic to the fish-cause, even though your PETA heart bleeds for the plight of the poor snarling, mauling, meaowing humans now locked in their cages at night?

It would be a story that would contain a sympathetic fish, of course, perhaps a gold fish (for the sole reason that I had a goldfish once upon a time in Delhi), and this goldfish obviously must have a soft corner for the male species of humans who walks straight.

She would turn him loose, him and his mate, albeit with a heavy heart, to fight their war upon the dominating fish-folk. Perhaps there would be a Statue of Liberty they would stumble upon, while riding by the seafront, on their pet wolf... Perhaps there would be a cave discovered with so many secrets of a bygone era. Perhaps there would a be a wail of lamentation and self-realisation, for none of us mortals are free from the wails elicited by both.

Or perhaps, I may get bored by excessive fishiness and call it a day. Let the humans stew in their broth. Let the fish have their fun. Let me go see Sharktale.


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