LAST EDITED ON 12-04-12 AT 12:27 PM (EST)
Well, here’s the deal, see. (Oh, and you knew this was coming, right?)
Meat bag land creatures are so annoying, what with their insistence on using the piscine world as a focus of their culinary habits on the one hand, and, although you’d think that they’d be grateful for that contribution (ugh) to their life, then they turn around and insult us, using terms like “slimey” (actually we are pre-lubricated, a condition that I know that some of you should appreciate) , “fish or cut bait” (which part of that is the more insulting or even makes sense?), “fish eye lens” (which is a cruel reference to those of us with Hyperthyroidism. Bullies!!), and “a fish out of water” (for which “A meat bag under water” should be substituted).
OK, I lost the train there for a second, but the point is that the blood balloon land creatures are so annoying that there are a few of us that are trying to develop feet so that we can go up there and deliver some well-deserved ass whoppings to their sorry excuses for dry-land tail end assemblies (a fish tail is a thing of exquisite and erotic beauty, I think we can all agree on that) so we accumulate old shoes for that purpose. We don’t have shoe stores in the malls down here <sarcasm>, and internet sales don’t work well in salt water <more sarcasm>, so we are reduced to gathering what we can from Mafia hit victims, suicides, and klutzy foot bridge crossers.
Then, adding to the mountain of injustices, your “fisherman” (let’s not get into what that word does to the psyches of our fry, it takes years for them to dare to look under their beds because of the terror that word brings to the table) are trying to steal our stash of old shoes and boots.
Someday a hit squad of fish with newly developed hind legs will put one of those old boots where the moon rises and the sun don’t shine.