A Fish’s Tail

by Isaac Foster

In a city there lay a fish carcass the size of a house, hollowed out by Scott the Great Glubber. He was once a magnificent fish, as big as the sea in his day, but now he’s merely tiny. He was waiting for the day when the first resident came, and the day he would finally be lived in. But this day would never come for this city was all that was. And because of this, the fish was sad. This sadness was the greatest there ever was. This complete sadness pervaded every inch of the fish’s body, down to the very tip of the fish’s tail. Because of this the tip of the fish’s tail was sad. It didn’t want to be pervaded with sadness because it had plans. It planned to get out the city, probably go to Reno or Vegas. But that was impossible because there was no Reno or Vegas, only the city. It knew this was so, so it made plans to separate from the fish, settle down in the city and find someone nice to live and have children with. But that was impossible too for the tail was the only person living in the city after Scott had died, his body standing in the middle of the city decaying and covered in mold, a testament to glory of days gone long ago.