Little Fish

The sushi was young that day; not just fresh but hardly even wet around the ears. She liked her sushi older. Not elderly, but more mature. There was something almost ghoulish about eating a young piece of sushi. Especially when they cried out. She hated it when they cried out.

Thinking of sushi made her think of the little joke the boy told her.

He said, ‟why was the little fish afraid to go out in the sun?”

She said, ‟I don’t know. Why was the little fish afraid to go out in the sun?”

‟Because he might smelt.” The boy cackled and smacked his forehead. He clearly enjoyed his own jokes.

She thought how good it was to hear jokes from the boy.

She looked at her plate. Her sushi looked  little older. Maybe she should save it until later. But she was very hungry and maybe the sushi was not as young as it looked. Maybe she could just eat slowly.

She took a bite with her sharp teeth.

‟YOOOUUUUCCCCHHHHHHH!!!!!” screamed the sushi.

‟Damn,” she thought, ‟I hate it when they do that. I just hate it.