Promptings from Valhalla - 31. A Fishy Prompt

Once upon a time there lived a fish in a beautiful, clear, blue-green eddy off a meandering creek. Even though he had the entire creek at his disposal, he preferred spending his time in the eddy, observing and plotting.

Now what could a fish possibly plot, you might wonder. Well this was no ordinary fish. This fish had one driving goal in his life: to return to his home planet. While this might seem a tad ambitious for a lowly fish, it seemed quite doable for the pet of the king of the aliens.

So he idled in his eddy, watching the humans who came to the stone bridge just a few yards from his abode throw strings with hooks on the end dangling from long poles and catch his less-intelligent doppelgangers. And he plotted.

At night, when the humans slept in their dry domiciles, the fish gathered reeds and stones and creek plants, arranging them in ways that only made sense to him. Until one day, the final pebble fell into place, causing the fish to gasp, releasing a bubble that languidly rose to the creek’s surface in a way completely opposite to the fish’s elation.

Finally… after decades of calculations, he had discovered the formula to ensure his return home. Now he just needed to implement it. And not wonder why he had been abandoned to this creek so long ago.

The first step to his plan involved leaving the eddy. He needed to get a message to the king, not only to get back home, but to relay the findings of his research and observations. So the next time he saw a human throw the hooked string into the water, he swam against the current, took a deep breath, and bit the hook.

Pain exploded through him as the hook tore into the sensitive flesh of his mouth, and he was rent unceremoniously through the air. He gasped for breath and flailed, wondering what the hell he’d been thinking.

“Look at the size of this one!” the human exclaimed!

The fish looked, bug-eyed, at the bucket of life-saving water just out of reach. The human held him up as he twirled on the end of the hook, mouth gaping for water. “Get a picture, Joe!”

“Damn, Chet! That’ll be fine eating for dinner tonight!”

What?

Well shit. That was one variable the fish hadn’t considered.