Fish. And yet nothing was sacred. Nothing but the quality control personnel, and even they liked to ride rottweilers to work. Those filthy bastards. Nothing but bitch, moan, wibble.
But they were nothing compared to their surly mothers-in-law. A more odious opera house full of aged harlots has never imploded. Fuck them, and fuck their miniature poodles, and rape their snivelling left nostrils. Pigfuckers.
The moon fell. The fish swam in the tiny pond. A rat scampered impatiently across the marble courtyard. I ate my cheeseburger and silently cursed Socrates.