Part One Hundred Sixteen
No Fish
"If only there were some fish to talk to around
here." Buster could speak to fish very well. And write stories
too. So the rumors about him being very gay must have been wrong.
Because writers and fish talkers only seem gay to people who are
gay. They are actually very, very manly and do it to hot chicks all
of the time, especially in their free time.
"You missed the fish," said Turf.
"There were fish?" gasped Buster. "We
need to go talk to them right away!" Dade began trying to pick
the colored locks.
"Yup. Made for a good dinner." Harry
licked his stomach and rubbed his lips.
"Noooooooo!" Buster fell to his knees and
pulled his hair out and wept uncontrollably and anybody playing him
in a movie will win an oscar for this scene. "Are the fish dead
or gone or can we still get to them?" asked Buster while eyeing
Harry's belly.
"Just kidding," kidded Harry.
"One fish. He looked lonely,"
psycho-analyzed Turf.
"The fish is fine," said Corky. Meaning
well, not hot.
"Corky, can you show me the fish?" Buster
knew his time to prove himself was at hand!
"No, it's behind the door that locked behind
us," explained Corky. "Idiot. Weren't you paying
attention?"
"Drat!" Buster's moment would have to come
later when there were more important fish to help them discover the
secret of the plot. Dade failed at picking the lock so his moment
would have to come later too. Except he'd be dead first.
"Bummer," bummed Dade.
117. Attack of the Bee-Orcs
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