death fish ·
9 February 06

Kevin had a bad night,a nd failed to be a hit with any ladies. He wasn’t sure what it was, maybe it was his attitude having just lost his job, maybe he didn’t try hard enough. Whatever the case, heading home he came upon a gay bar, and decided he could do with a drink for the road home. It was a bar that didn’t mind what your sexuality was, but it was predominantly gay. Kevin didn’t care, since it was the only bar on the street, and headed in.

Like every other bar he’d been to, there were people dancing, and there were people that weren’t. Many looked intoxicated by some substance other than alcohol, but that didn’t bother him as he headed towards the bright neon bar where his salvation lay. He waved at the barman, who was a bold, but young man aged around his thirties, wearing a T-shirt soaked in either sweat or alcohol, he didn’t really want to know what it was or where it came from.

Kevin noted the almost empty bottle of JD, and ordered a triple coke and whiskey. The bar man told him that he could only serve him a double whiskey & coke, and a single on top of that. Kevin enquired why, and the baldy replied with “club rules”. He’d had a bad night, and didn’t want to get into a political debate about how other clubs didn’t have such a facist rule. He ordered a single and a double whiskey and coke.

Taking a seat, he waited for his drinks, and then handed over a £10 note, out of which he was returned nothing, and instead asked for another £2.70 on top. Pricey, but it was a drink or two nonetheless, and he did need it. He drank down the single whiskey and coke in one go, there was no point in pretend it had any potency. He didn’t notice it until he turned to his left, to notice the man patting his back and talking to him.

The salmon rubs it’s eyes in disbelief, but can clearly see the cod has disappeared and in its place is a bull on a bike with stablisers

He could barely make out what was being said, but Kevin was not interested in what the man wanted or had to say. He nodded politely at the man in a gesture of acknowledgement but nothing else. The man smiled back and continued talking, patting Kevin’s back now and again. This got Kevin’s goat, who decided to leave the man a gift.

He pointed towards the stage floor, to which the man smiled again and walked over to. Kevin didn’t leave his seat, but waited until no one was watching and slipped a pill into the man’s drink. It would no doubt improve the man’s social behaviour, and would at least get him off Kevin’s back.

The man is a stocky individual with a featureless face, blue eyes and a tattoo on his arm which says “bacon tastes great”

Kevin finished the rest of his drink and decided to leave. As he walked out he started to feel a little dizzy and needed to rest. He knew there was a park not far from the club where there were benches he could rest upon. He headed towards a vacant bench, and started to feel a bit paranoid, suspecting that someone spiked his own drink when he wasn’t looking. He lifted his feet on to the bench, and placed his arms below his head, shutting his eyes for a moment.

Suddenly he was startled by a touch on his shoulder, which was not by his own hand. He looked up and saw a man talking, but all Kevin could do was hear a muffled sound, and saw a visual blur of the man’s movement. Kevin, worried for his life pulled out a knife and held towards the man’s throat. The man falls back and turns into a cod fish, and wiggles it’s way up the park.

Kevin falls off the bench and turns into a salmon, chasing the cod all the way up the park. The cod manages to get between two trees at which point the salmon throws the knife towards the the cod and gets it in the back. The cod falls over and hits the tree on the way down to the ground. The cod slowly crawls into a wooded area, bleeding heavily, and the salmon continnues to give chase, but then suddenly stops.

He’d had a bad night, and didn’t want to get into a political debate about how other clubs didn’t have such a facist rule

The salmon rubs it’s eyes in disbelief, but can clearly see the cod has disappeared and in its place is a bull on a bike with stablisers. The cod, now turned bull on a bike, gives the salmon a chase. THe salmon moves left, the bull moves left. The salmon moves right, the bull rides right. There seems no way out for the salmon, which is now out of breath, and wiggles its gills in frustration.

The bull laughs maniacally and says it will make a deal with the salmon. The salmon must meet with a man called Phoenix in a down town district tomorrow, in exchange for his life. The salmon ponders, and wiggles its gills in a furious rage but ultimately agrees to the bulls proposal. The bull rides away, rinning the bike bell and singing Frank Sinatara songs out of tune.

It’s the next evening, and the salmon goes to see Phoenix. The man is a stocky individual with a featureless face, blue eyes and a tattoo on his arm which says “bacon tastes great”. Phoenix motions to the salmon to follow him into a room.

The salmon quietly follows, and understands that Phoenix already understands the circumstances which has led the salmon to him. Phoenix points to a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room for the salmon to sit on. The salmon sits down, and Phoenix picks up a large knife. The next moment everything turns blank for the salmon.

Another bad night.