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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