“George can’t breathe down here,” Tom insisted. “He’s gonna die.”
“Yeah, I see,” Eric snapped, angry because he didn’t see at all.
“I just thought you should know. It’s a bad thing, don’t you think?”
“I suppose. Should we do something? We should do something.” At the moment he said this, Eric almost meant it. “What can we do, Tom?”
“We can’t do anything, that’s what. But why not? Why not?” Continue reading
“Hi,” Eric said.
“Wow!” George decided. “Talking fish on the beach! Let’s play!”
“We’re trying to follow a sound,” Tom grunted.
“Yeah, we’ll play some other time,” Eric agreed.
“The sound is gone,” Tom continued.
And it certainly was. No one realized the sound had been George crying, which his amazement at the fish had made him stop. But then, the pair of fish realized they were breathing air! And right above them was the sun, all ready to be played in! But they were undeniably still fish. How could they breathe air? How could they talk with George? How in the world—
“Just accept it!” a Voice boomed from all around them. Continue reading
Once upon a time, there lived a fish named Tom. Now I don’t want to go so far as to say Tom hated being a fish, but he was a touch unhappy. You see, he had a slight problem. Tom suffered from what he called a reverse dyslexia. Dyslexia is an ugly, technical word which means (sort of) mixed up. So a reverse dyslexia, you might figure out, should mean Tom was the exact opposite of mixed up. Well, that was not quite the case. Take my word for it. Simply put, Tom was very tragically sad, whether he believed he was mixed up or not. Poor Tom. Continue reading