BIG FISH STORY
BY IRWIN R. LEWIS
Jerry held the bowl in both hands afraid that, with his bad thumb, he
might drop and kill Henry. Hed be in for it then.
walked from the apartment toward Ted's beat and rusted Ford work pickup,
his breath looked to him like wet smoke in the cold morning air, and he
tried to blow a few smoke rings. But after a couple tries, he gave that
up because it didn't work so good and because he was sure Ted would say
something about it if he looked over and saw what he was trying to do.
Ted would say, "What the fuck you doin, numb nuts?" or
something similar. Jerry couldn't think of how he'd answer, and it
wasn't working so good, anyway, so he gave it up. At the truck,
shivering and wishing he'd worn his other coat, he shifted the fish bowl
to the crux of his left arm so he could open the passenger's side door.
At first, Ted didn't even turn his head as Jerry climbed inside
the cab. Ted just sat behind the wheel, one hand tearing small strips
of label from the beer he held between his legs, one hand resting
against the broken horn, fingers impatiently strumming the steering
But as Jerry slammed the door shut, Ted glanced
over--"You're gonna break my fucking ear drums...."--then had to do a
double take, blinking, leaning toward Jerry, then leaning back, trying
to get a better angle on the round, glass fish bowl, the little red fish
inside half hidden amongst plastic plants and staring back out and
blowing, what looked to Ted like, lippy fish kisses.
blinked, again. Looked, again. He couldn't quite make sense of it.
"Jesus it's cold," Jerry said.
"What the fuck is that?"
"That's Henry," Jerry said holding up the bowl and peering inside.
"He's a fish." He put the bowl back down to his lap.
"I can see
it's a Goddamn fish."
"Man, it--no, I mean it's my wife's fish.
Man, it reeks in here." Jerry was looking closely now at the oversized,
black gym bag on the cab's floor that he had crawled over getting in.
"Nah, really? I thought it was your fucking lunch. What the
fuck you doing with the fucking thing?"
"Man, it really reeks in
here," Jerry said, purposely looking down at the bag. An old airplane
claim ticket was wrapped around one of the bag's handles as camouflage.
"It takes money to make money."
"Man, I can't afford
gettin picked up with a bunch of dope, you know?"
fucking whining. You're not still on parole, are you?"
"Probation. It wasn't ever parole."
"Okay, so you're not
still on fucking probation, are you?"
crying. I just have to drop this off on our way. Now, what the fuck is
with the mother fucking, fucked up fish?"
"I was supposed to drop
this by the school. It's for some kid thing or something."
"It's right on the way," Jerry said,
"We have to go the other fucking direction to drop
"We still have to come back, right?"
Christ, it's too fucking early for your antics." Ted put the truck into
reverse and did a backward half circle in the parking lot, saying,
"You're so fucking pussy whipped. Why didn't your wife take the
fucker?" He put it into first and took off out of the parking lot,
turning right and out onto the road without stopping, cutting the
driveway a bit too close and clipping a little of the curb.
car's still screwed, so she had to take the bus--it's right on the way,"
Jerry said holding the bowl a little off his lap, angling it right then
left, trying to compensate for the bumped curb. "We can just--"
"Oh, Jesus Christ, stop fuckin whimpering already. We'll stop
by on the fucking way back."
Jerry pushed on the bag with one
foot and could feel its soft bulging mass. "Man, Patty would shit if I
got busted with a bunch of dope."
"Jesus, are you gonna keep this
shit up all day? You sound like somebody's little bitch. Fire up that
joint," Ted said pointing a finger at the ashtray.
that the brown spaghetti stringers of tape belonging to Born in the
USA still hung out of the cassette as he picked the joint out of the
ashtray. He was tired of mornings without music, but Ted was already on
a tear, so he wasn't about to say nothing about it. "Man, last time you
got me stoned before work, I stuck a hammer through the dry wall. About
broke my thumb off."
In a mocking, high pitched voice, Ted said,
"'Last time you got me stoned...' 'I'm on parole.... Waaa, fucking
waaa. Would you shut up? You're giving me a fuckin
Jerry pulled out his Bic lighter and lit the joint out
of peer pressure. "I was just saying, I don't do my best work...." He
held in the hit and passed the joint.
"It's my dry wall, what do
you give a fuck?" Ted took the joint, took a hit, looked over at the
fish as he made a left without stopping or signaling, shook his head,
and said, "You are so fucking pussy whipped." Ted took another hit
before passing the joint back, but as Jerry reached for it, Ted held
onto it--he wouldn't let go until he had said, in a raspy voice, still
holding in smoke, "You're a perfect example of the feminizing of the
Jerry took the joint back, looking offended.
"Im not feminized."
Ted went into a coughing fit blowing
out smoke, slapping the steering wheel a few times, then taking a swig
off his beer. "That's the good chronic shit, there." Then Ted held his
beer up in his right hand and pointed it at Jerry. "The whole goddamn
country is feminized. It'll be the fucking end of us in the next war."
Jerry, thinking Ted was holding the beer a little too much in
the open, took a look around for cops, looked back down at the black bag
nervously, took a hit.
"Take that movie," Ted said, finally
dropping his hand back down, "that remake of that Peckinpah movie--it
had that Baldwin guy and that blonde babe, what's her name? I always
forget her name--Kim--fucking Kim-something--"
"Yeah, yeah, that
was a good movie. The Getaway. I saw that. That was all
right." Jerry was already starting to feel it, and he couldn't help
"Yeah, it was fucking okay, sure, but did you see the
"Sure, sure, couple times. It had Steve McQueen and
that one girl, what's-her-face--"
"You notice how fucking
different they were, though?"
Jerry just shrugged and tried to
offer the joint back, but Ted was on a roll, so Jerry just held on to
it, letting his hand drop to the top of a spring that was sticking out
of the seat cover by his left leg.
"Remember the scene where--it
was just after the guy, Steve, finds out his wife made a deal with the
one dick head who got him out of prison, and she's been fucking him,
"Yeah, yeah, and she double crosses the guy and shoots
him, instead of Steve." Jerry bounced his hand up and down on the
spring a little, becoming slightly absorbed by the action.
shook his head impatiently. "Yeah, but she was fucking the guy and--the
part where he pulls off the road and starts ragging on her."
"Yeah." Jerry was suddenly self-conscious of playing with the spring
and thought it might look really stupid, so he stopped.
you remember in the original, Steve just slaps the shit out her, right,
and she just kind of takes it, right?"
"Yeah, right. Yeah, I
remember." Jerry tried to take another hit, but it was green bud, and
the joint had gone out. He pushed in the dash lighter, forgetting about
the Bic in his front-shirt pocket.
"But in the remake,
Baldwin--Kevin or whatever--they have so many fucking Baldwins--but in
the remake he slaps her, but then she, like, slaps him back and shit.
Jerry looked out the front windshield like he was
seeing the scene at the drive in. "Yeah, that's right. That's
"See what I'm saying. Sam knew how to make movies.
Remember that one with Dustin Hoffman?"
Something-Dog." The lighter popped out, but Jerry ignored it, still
looking absently out the window. "Reservoir Dogs. No. Dog-something."
The fish bowl almost slipped out from between his legs, but Jerry
grabbed it by the rim.
"Whatever--careful with that shit--it was
the one where the girl gets drug around by the hair by the guy, the one
guy, and he makes her fuck him--her husband is some math geek or some
shit--but then she starts getting off on it, remember?"
yeah, I remember that." Jerry lit the joint with his Bic after the
second attempt with the safety switch, and he put the fish bowl on his
lap to hide an early morning half-hard-on as he took a deep hit.
"Sam knew how to fuckin make 'em. You don't see shit like that
anymore." Ted took the joint back finally, and hit off it as he tried
to change lanes, but then had to swerve back into his own before hitting
a Vega. A gray harried woman in the car honked the horn at him and
mouthed something. Ted waved hello as he blew smoke into his side
window and watched it mushroom. "You don't see 'em like that, anymore."
He turned back to the road. "Now, Kim slaps Baldwin--Eric,
whatever--and that shit effects your mind. Media stuff. It has an
effect. That's proven scientifically." Ted held out the joint, but
again wouldn't let go so that Jerry was forced to look his way as he
said, "That's why everyone is so pussy whipped, now. That's why
everyone is a pussy whipped, little whining bitch like you running
around with a fucking salmon on his lap trying to prove how fucking
pussy whipped he is to his fucking old lady." Ted finally let go, and
turned back to the road in time to swerve and miss clipping a
"Man, I don't mind doing stuff. I don't do that much,
and Patty's really good to me."
"A woman ain't nothin but
life support for a pussy."
"Come on, man, you're just into all
that because you've been burnt."
"Life support for a pussy."
"That's not every single woman, Ted."
"Every fucking one of
'em ain't shit."
"You can't say that about all women. That's
prejudice. That's like saying every black guy's a nigger. But there's
niggers and then there's good black guys."
"Show me one."
"What about Elliot?"
"Elliot's cool. Nobody better talk shit
about my man Elliot."
"The same with women. There's bitches and
then there's good women, Ted."
Ted shook his head, swigged down
the last of his beer, and pushed the bottle behind the seat as he blew
through a stoplight. "Bullshit. Look, I, like, had this girl once, and
I wanted to fuck her in the ass--I don't--I had some wild hair or
something--but I wanted to fuck her in the ass, see, but she wouldn't do
it, right? I was, like, fucking hitting on her for, like, ever, right.
But she wouldn't go for it. I mean, this chick would do everything
else, too. Suck my crank, let me tit fuck her--whatever, but she
wouldn't let me mine her poop chute, right? So I finally laid down the
law, pulled that, 'if you really loved me' shit, and that, 'if you don't
feed the dog he'll jump over the fence,' shit, and so I finally fucking
get her to do it--I mean, it took me, like, forever, but she finally let
me, and right then, man--I mean, right then, bam, that was it--I lost
all respect for her." Ted snapped his fingers as he made his point
conclusively, and he reached under his seat to get another beer.
Jerry nodded and looked down at the floorboard as if he was letting
the point sink in. After a few seconds, he said, "How do you get
someone to do that?"
Ted twisted off the cap and took a drink
still happy with his winning rhetorical argument. "What?"
know, fuck, like, somebody in the rear?"
"What, take a Sunday
drive down the Hershey highway?"
"Yeah, how do you approach
someone with something like that? I mean, you just ask 'em 'can I fuck
you in your butt,' or what?"
"You never fucked a chick up the
Jerry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Not
"What do you mean 'not totally?' You either fucked
someone up the ass or you didn't."
"I mean, not--"
wouldn't forget something like that or, like, not know you did it or
"No, not really," Jerry said
"Don't give a shit how
fucked up you were."
"I mean, not--"
"You either have or
"Nah, nah, not--no. I mean, like, I couldn't face
asking someone something like that."
Ted held his beer down low
in his right, using one free finger on the steering wheel as a state
police car drove by in the opposite direction. "You don't ask somebody,
'Hey, baby, can I fuck you up the ass?' You don't ask; you just do it.
You just kind of get down there and play around down there and just do
"What, I mean, you get down there and just suddenly shove it
Ted, taking another drink, pulled the beer bottle away from
his lips too fast and let backwash dribble down the front of his
coveralls. "No, Jesus Christ, you don't just 'suddenly shove it in!'
Jesus, it's not like, 'Hey, look over there,' then, wham--'surprise!'
What the shit, you some kinda rapo fuck?"
"Nah, man, I was just
"Not like, 'hey, your shoe's untied.' Ka-wham."
"Nah, man, I just--"
"'Hey, you dropped the soap.'
"Not like that. I was just asking. What do you, like--I
just couldn't ask someone something like that."
ask--man, didn't your dad ever give you a lecture about the birds and
bees? Look, you just kind of play around in that area and keep going
until she stops you. You just keep playing around. Maybe oil it up
like you're putting oil on their pussy, like baby oil or whatever.
Maybe start by rubbing their back and then go down to their thighs and
then their pussy--I mean, this is in a long-term relationship, like,
weeks or months or somethin. You just maybe start like playing
around in that area on the outside and then kind of stick a finger up
there first. It's like the first time you ever fucked some virgin
bitch, you know. You gotta be real gentle. Show 'em they can trust
you. Show 'em you only have the best intentions, and shit."
"Think Patty'd do that?"
"If you really led up to it. If
you showed her just how good it could feel. Like, when you're playing
with her clit, just play around the outside of it at the same time.
Stop with that a bunch of times. Keep going slowly. Thing to remember
in all this is a girl can never go back. It's psychology, and shit. A
girl who's slobbed your knob can't go back to just giving you hand jobs,
right? See, you'll always be able to go as far as you've already been.
If you've gotten a finger up there, and you go too far, and she starts
squirming too much, and shit, you just stop and go back a little. If
you tried for two fingers, you go back to just doing one for a while.
But you'll always be able to go back to doing what you've already done
before. You just keep going a little farther, a little farther until
you finally get it, and shit. Now, with a bitch like Patty, it'd take
awhile. She's got class, position, up-standing member of the community
and all that shit--I don't know how she hooked up with a loser like you
but--but you just got to go slow, man. But you can get that shit. I've
gotten it off all kind's of women."
"No shit? Janet?"
"I used to dog her up the ass
about once a week just to keep the marriage interesting."
shit?" Jerry had a sudden case of the Marijuana paranoias as Ted passed
a Rider moving van on the right, and he grabbed his shoulder belt.
"And it's good too," Ted said. "Different. Not just tighter good,
either, but different good. You just got to take it slow. You can get
'em to do that shit. You can get 'em to do about anything, you take
Ted took a long swig as Jerry gave up on the belt
and let it fall back in place when he couldn't coordinate getting the
other end out from between the seat pads with holding on to both the
roach and the fish bowl.
"See, the thing is," Ted said,
"psychology and shit again, is women don't like to be responsible for
shit. As long as you take complete responsibility, they'll do anything
you want. They'll be like 'oh, God, I can't believe what you did to me'
right, but then they're right there the next night looking for the water
balloon trick again."
"As long as they don't
have to take responsibility, you can get 'em to do about anything." Ted
picked a pill out of his front coverall pocket, popped it, and washed it
down with beer.
Jerry wasn't sure if it was his regular
medication since he didn't have it in the bottle, or if it was something
else, but he was already feeling higher than he had planned to before
nine in the morning, so he didn't ask to share.
Ted sighed after
taking the beer from his lips like he'd just finished a good meal and
said, "Now, there's some shit I can't see trying to talk some chick
into, myself. Like, I can't see getting some chick to piss on you or
some sick shit like that."
Jerry scrunched up his face. "Oh, no
"I mean, how could some guy ask someone to do that?" Ted
"Maybe they don't ask--I mean, it's like the same thing.
You just kind of go slow, and--not that I'd ever want to."
shit, me either--fuck."
"Just can't see it."
another drink. "Or, like, how could some freak, like, fuck an animal or
something? How could you do that?"
"There's guys that do it,
"Oh, I know it," Ted said.
"I mean, I met a guy in
the joint who was--somebody said, anyways, that he was in for mule
fucking or something. I mean, I guess they even got laws against that
"Jesus, a fucking mule. You know how hard those things
"Which I can understand--the laws, I mean. Who wants
some vagrant jumping your fence to ream your German Shepherd?"
"Like, how the fuck could you get a hard on and, like, keep it up for
a fucking goat or a sheep or something?" Ted said still scrunching up
his face. "I couldn't just look at a goat pussy and get a hard on, you
know. I mean, maybe if I was thinking of some woman or started jacking
off first to some fuck mag or something, but then, what's the point? I
mean I can see someone trying to fuck some guy or something. Just for
the psychological challenge to get some guy to suck your dick."
Ted punched Jerry in the arm, but because of the
angle and having to drive, he didn't get much force behind it. "Fuck
you. I wouldn't do it. I'm just saying I could see it'd be a challenge
to, like, out-wit some guy, psychologically dominate some guy or
something, but a fucking sheep or a bird or some shit? Some dumb-shit
animal? What's the point?"
"You can't fuck a bird, can you?"
Ted took a last drink of his beer and shoved the empty bottle behind
the seat. It made a glass on glass clanking noise back there. "I know
this other guy whose wife is a fucking school teacher, too, and she did
some kind of kid thing, only with birds instead of with fish."
"With kids and birds?! Jesus, the guy?"
"No, not the guy, the
fucking guy's wife, the school teacher."
"She fucked a kid with a
"No she--where the fuck did that shit come--man, you got
beasts and shit on the noggin."
"I said this
guy's wife was a school teacher, and she was doing a fucking school
thing, just like your wife and the fucking fish, see, but it was with
birds, see. You get it?" Ted reached under the seat, got another
"Yeah, yeah, I see."
"The sun starting to rise?
The fuse get replaced? Dumb shit, 'fucked a kid with a bird.' How the
fuck do you--where does--any fucking way, they hatched this chicken and
this duck together, see, in this class thing. And these birds,
they like bonded and shit. Now, they were both males, but, get this
shit, they started going at it and fucking each other."
"No, the fourth graders. Yeah, the fucking birds.
They started fucking each other, and the teacher had to get rid of 'em
cause the kids started asking questions, right. Not the school board
approved form of sex education, and shit. So they took them out to the
farm. This guy has a farm. And they--I saw 'em do it, too. A couple
times just while I was there for an hour or so making a delivery. They
just fuck the hell out of each other. And here's the trip, the fucking
chicken does the duck, and the duck is bigger. I mean, what's up with
that? I mean, a big old honker."
"I just thought being a big guy and all, that would kind
of bother you."
"Fuck you, freak. You gonna hold that all
"It's about hashed."
Jerry dug a bag and some papers
out of the glove box and put the fish bowl between his feet as he
rolled. He said, "I was her first."
was her first. That's why she ended up with a loser like me. If you're
a girl's first, you can always take her again if you want to. It's like
you were saying. Psychological. It's some kind of woman thing. Some
bullshit woman thing about giving it up to the one true love of their
life or something." Jerry creased a Zig-Zag a little below its standard
middle fold and poured finger pinches of shake into the formed
"How old is Patty?"
"Almost ten year's younger
than me, man," Jerry said smiling. "Twenty-six."
"You telling me
her fucking well didn't get drilled until she was
"Patty's way too good
"She's pulling your fucking
"No, I knew--
"spreadin strawberry jam
on your bed sheets."
"No--would you--I knew her a long time
before we hooked back up this time." It was sense. No seeds. But
Jerry was having a hell of a time with the small stems and his bad
thumb. "I met her first back in high school."
Ted choked on his
beer. "What the fuck, when she was eight years old?"
"I knew you got held back a few grades, but shit--"
when I was in high school, when she was in high
"Jesus Christ, I thought you were a fucking child
molester there for a minute. You plumbed Patty when she was still in
Jerry smiled, proudly. "Yep, sweet sixteen.
"Wait a minute," Ted said, again pulling the beer away
from his mouth too fast. "How old were you?"
First it was
pregnant, and Jerry evened that out, but he couldn't stop the stems from
punching small holes through the paper. "Twenty-four or five,
"What? You were a fucking child molester.
You were fucking fifteen-year-old girls when you were twenty-five?"
"I think I was twenty-four."
"Jesus. They should have locked
your pervert ass up for some shit like that. Celled you up with the
"She--Patty was a good looking sixteen year old."
He licked the glue, rolled it up and over.
"Jesus, fifteen! What
the fuck, you hang out around junior highs a lot looking for dates?"
"Hey, man, you should chill running through stop signs with all this
shit you got--"
"What fucking--I turned right."
gotta stop first--"
"What, you think I'm some kind of social
experiment? Fucking Pavlov's dog, or some shit? Red--stop. Green--go.
Fucking purple--salivate." Ted spit on the floorboard just missing the
egg-sized hole rusted open by three years of tobacco juice.
"It was a stop sign." Jerry couldn't help looking over where Ted had
spit. He could see through the hole to the running black pavement.
"And when you start acting all paranoid that's when you fucking get
busted. That's probably how you got busted, cheese dick." Ted shook
his head. "Child molesting, cheese dick." Shook his head, again.
"Jesus I gotta have a drink just so I can relate to a freak like you.
Put that out, save it for later." Ted wheeled into the parking lot of
the Silver Dollar. "Bummer for you, though, ya fucking baby raper,
everybody in here'll be over twenty-one."
* * * *
pipes in the Silver Dollar had frozen and burst during the night, so
everyone in the bar was forced to take straight shots. By the time they
came out of the bar, Jerry was stumbling a little and weaving pretty
badly. "Man, I don't think I better run the circular saw. Maybe I
could do some wiring or something, but no way I'm gonna pound a nail
Ted had a little better luck walking but was having
a hell of a time with his keys. "You can't pound a fucking nail
straight drunk or sober." Ted tried the door and found out he'd left it
unlocked. He opened his door, crawled inside, then reached across the
seat and unlocked the passenger's door.
Jerry started to get in
but then stopped, looking down in shock. "Jesus, I forgot all about
Henry." Jerry picked up the fish bowl and looked inside, his nose
inches from the glass. A thin layer of ice had formed on top of the
water. "Jesus, he's moving around kinda slow."
Ted looked over
at Jerry's giant bubble face reflected through the glass of the fish
tank as he put a pinch of tobacco between his cheek and gum. "Spit a
chaw in there, that'll speed the little fuck up. We used to put Tabasco
sauce in the fish bowl when we were kids. Drove the old lady nuts."
"Man, this shit ain't funny. Patty'll kick my ass if I kill her
"Oh, here we go. You dumb fuck, just pour the
fucking ice off the top. I'll turn on the heater--he'll be good as new
in a couple miles." Ted kept trying to put his house key in the
ignition, but it wouldn't fit.
Jerry broke the ice up with his
knuckle then tried to pour it out of the bowl, but his hand slipped, and
he poured everything out onto the pavement including the fish who
flopped on the ground a few times, "Oh, man," until Jerry could pick him
up by the tail and throw him back in. He held up the flopping fish in
the empty bowl. "Man, now what the fuck am I gonna do?"
started to laugh hysterically. "You dumb son of
a--yaahaahaahaayaahaahaahaa--you are the most fucked up mother
fuck--yaaahaahaahaayaahaa--" He started to get it under control, reached
under his seat, and pulled out a beer. "I only keep you around for
fucking comic relief, you know that."
Panicked, "Man, what the
fuck am I supposed to do? Hey, give me that beer."
"Fuck too, I
ain't wasting Bud on that fucking fish. Now, if it was
"Man, this ain't funny. Patty'll kill
"Shut up, you pussy whipped mother fucker. You don't know
what the fuck beer might do to it, anyway. Fucking alcohol is, like, a
sterilent, and shit."
"What the fuck--"
"Stop crying. You
were bitching about having to take a piss inside. Just fucking piss in
"In the fucking fish bowl?"
"No, in your fucking
sock. Yeah, in the fish bowl, dumb shit."
"You were just saying
what beer'd do to him, what about fucking piss, man?"
you don't know shit from Shinola. Piss is, like, ninety-seven-percent
pure water, or some crap."
"Yeah, and it's the four-percent piss
that fucking kills ya."
"Shut up and start pissing before that
fucker croaks. I know your pansy, fucking, pussy whipped ass will try
to blame me for it."
Jerry, stumbling a little, tentatively put
the fishbowl on the floorboard of the truck. "Man, I don't know about
this shit. If it's so fucking pure, why don't you drink it? Keep a
little in your fridge next to the Kool-aide?" He started to unzip.
"Fuck you. You don't know--and don't piss all over my fucking truck
either, numb nuts." Ted spit brown saliva onto his floorboard, looked
back. "Man, you better hurry up, that fish is gonna expire."
"It's hard to get going with you looking at my crank."
you got stage fright? Dumb shit. Man, you got the smallest prick I
ever seen, even for a white man."
Jerry got started. "Fuck you,
it's cold as shit out here. And it ain't how big it is but what you do
"It looks like you can't do shit. Is that all you got?
'I gotta go before we leave. I gotta piss like a Russian racehorse.'
And that's all you got?"
Jerry held the fish bowl up. There was
only enough liquid in the bowl to barely cover the fish but not to let
him swim upright. "Oh, man, this ain't enough. Give me that beer."
"Fuck you, here, just give me the fucking bowl."
* * * *
At 1:10, during art period, a shaggy-haired man
stumbled through the doorway of room 104 carrying a fishbowl. At the
time, the teacher was taking down pumpkins and goblins and putting up
turkeys and corn stalks on a pin-up board at the other side of the room.
Only the kids saw the man come in, stand swaying as he looked around
for a few seconds, then turn and walk back out into the hallway.
The teacher and later parents all over Keizer school district
wondered why the kids had left pilgrims and Indians half drawn and had
created colorful portraits of a fish bowl over the top of the original
work. Even as the drawings hung suspended by banana and apple-shaped
magnets to refrigerators--and even later got pasted into scrapbooks--no
one had a sufficient explanation for the content, theme, or inspiration
of the art.
This included the artists themselves. All they
knew was that the little red fish swimming around in the yellowish water
was an image so bright it just seemed to be worth imitating, preserving,
Fish Art by Matt Amati