Mr. Fish & Other Fantasy Tales
by
David Dicaire
Copyright 2012 David Dicaire,
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0683-1
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Mr. Fish
Mr. Bernard Fish was whisked with heavy police protection from the courthouse past the line of angry environmental protesters and scourge of reporters to the waiting car.
“Killer,” screamed one lady.
“Murderer. You suck Fish,” shouted a heavily bearded man. It looked like for an instant as if he was going to break through the wall of security and attack Bernard, but the police presence ensured that any perpetrators would be taken down with speedy precision.
Some held signs that read: DOWN WITH FISH PRODUCTS! And FISH: HOOKED, LINE AND SINKER! And SOMETHING SMELLS FISHY! Other signs portrayed a dying fish in a splat of orange chemical water, while another featured a large red circle with the words: PETROLEUM FISH PRODUCTS and a red line drawn through it.
Before he entered the vehicle, Mr. Fish turned to the crowd and flashed them a sign of utter defiance. An irate court appointed police officer shoved him hard into the car.
“Police brutality.”
“Mr. Fish, we are trying to save your ass here from being ripped apart and you return the favor with a grandstanding gesture. Would you like us to feed you to the crowd so they can devour you?”
Bernard didn't say a word. The car zoomed away to a send off of eggs and tomatoes splattering the back windshield and trunk.
Reporter Amanda Stevens, stationed on the steps of the courthouse amidst all of the chaos, still smiled for the camera. “The trial of Mr. Bernard Fish, the wealthy businessman accused of poisoning a good chunk of the local lake and some of its tributaries, causing many fish and other wildlife to die, came to a conclusion today. He has been found guilty and could be fined as much as five million dollars for the clean up. As well, the wealthy industrialist could see jail time and will find out in two months when final sentencing is brought down. His insolence irked environmentalists and the general public with the statement: 'they're only fish, get over it.'”
2
Despite the security system and posted guards, when Bernard arrived to his spacious home later that day he found yet another pile of dead, stinking fish on the front lawn. Someone had pelted the house with eggs, tomatoes and something else that was utterly disgusting. One of the windows on the second story was broken.
To make matters worse, there was a small group of environmental protesters outside the residence. They tried to intercept the vehicle from entering the gated manor and managed to attack the car before the chauffeur was able to scoot through the gate.
Mr. Fish pressed the intercom button.
“Yes, Mr. Fish, what can I do for you?”
“Manny see that the window is repaired and the house is cleaned.”
“Yes, sir.”
The window went back up.
The mansion was even more spectacular on the inside than it was on the outside. The escalator brought him to the master bedroom where a suitcase was already packed. Mr. Fish opened it and quickly looked through it to make sure that everything was in order.
Just then the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Someone ought to poke your eyes out you despicable cretin.”
“Who is this? How did you get this number?”
The person hung up. Bernard slammed the phone down in the cradle and headed for the escalator.
Outside the crowd of protesters waited at the gate for any activity. When the black Saab headed out it was once again pelted with tomatoes, eggs and the group tried to stop it. At the same time, another car, a blue Saab left the premises. The confused crowd was too stunned to do anything to it. Inside the decoy vehicle, Bernard laughed as he left the house and hoped that everything would be in order upon his return.
3
Bernard's little island paradise was a closely kept secret. Only Manny, the chauffeur, knew about it existence, but none were aware of its exact location. The chalet was a charming place and featured all the creature comforts of home. Best of all, it was isolated from all the nonsense that had consumed his life the past year or so.
He sat in his customary lounge chair overlooking the rolling waves as the sun sunk over the edge of the world with a drink in his hand.
“It just doesn't get any better than this.”
All of the troubles and trials of the past year melted away. The beleaguered industrialist remained hypnotized by the beauty of the sun sinking over the edge of the lake and only went inside once the mosquitoes became too bothersome.
4
It was five o'clock in the morning and Bernard woke up from a horrible nightmare gasping for air. He thought someone had invaded his private island and was chocking him to death. When he realized that it wasn’t a stranger, the man staggered out of bed and made it to the bathroom. He flicked on a light and screamed.
“This has to be a nightmare. It's impossible.”
That unique Bernard J. Fish face with the bug-like eyes, the carefully chiselled nose, the thin lips and the smooth, sallow cheeks had been replaced with...a fish head. More specifically, he looked like a trout.
He stared into the mirror for a long second and began gasping for air again. He pushed his head down into the sink and ran some water over his new-scaled face. The breathing became easier. But as soon as he took his head out from the running water he began to have problems breathing again.
The metamorphous from man to fish continued even further. His monogram pajamas ripped open and the fish scales quickly replaced the human skin.
He left the house and under the rising sun ran as fast as he could as one leg disappeared from underneath him and then the other to be replaced by a tail. He hopped and flopped the last ten yards before rolling into the water. Bernard was convinced that he would soon wake up from this crazy nightmare.
But once he was in the water, he felt at home. He stuck his head above the surface and looked at the chalet and his vision was much different then it had been only a few seconds before. He looked in the reflective water and realized that he truly was a fish.
But how can I be a fish? People don’t turn into fish do they?
While he was attempting to get used to the new him, he felt something lurking behind. Bernard turned around and noticed another fish; a much larger one (pike) that looked like it was searching for its breakfast.
Bernard did the only thing for someone who had just turned into a fish; he swam away. This surly individual with large razor sharp teeth and a seemingly insatiable desire to make the little trout its next meal was not going to be denied and gave chase.
Bernard wanted to tell this fish he was pursuing a wealthy tycoon, someone who had made large sums of money and enjoyed the finer things in life. But all of the logic wasn't going to work. The only thing that really mattered was running, or swimming,