The Fish Is Still in Our Basement

The fish was positioned on a small table on top of two wooden planks that served as a makeshift stand. Its eyes were congealed, its scales peeling and fins blaky, as though it had been deep fried or dipped in elmer's glue. A couple of pliers and screwdrivers sat next to it. I grabbed the pan and ran upstairs. It's from hence. Stephane and stephen took me deep sea fishing. What are you doing with it? My father stood at the counter and mixed flour and water with his hands. He shrugged. Well, i taxitor med it.I also write about taxitormy as this constructive law, and grief and