His wife was a slob. It had taken him years

His wife was a slob. It had taken him years to admit this to himself. He had taught her his system. The alphabetized mail slots. The organized fridge to size and expiration. But

the ironing of socks & underwear, the sorting them according to color & day of the week, were too much for her. She decided to murder her husband, sorting his body parts into

color, hardness and buoyancy. Once she'd put each piece of her husband into a different cubby, she looked into the mirror and saw that she was wearing his clothes. Perhaps she'd

bathe today - which wasn't likely - as she was 100% French and enjoyed her own heady aroma. She ignored the stink faces of her daily acquaintances, writing them off as

future minions who would one day bow to her will, and grovel at her feet, while offering her foreign delicacies, and filling the room with sweet perfumes. But for the present, she

was to remain a humble vetrinarian ! One day though she would discover how to talk to animals, and being quite evil would foment the pet revolution. the streets would run red

irected toward the river. That way, everyone would have to use the drawbridge. That was only the beginning though. Wait until they see my plan for fish fingers, she thought

she had already genetically engineered some fish with jagger lips and had difficulty stifling a laughing fit when she though of how the fishers had reacted when the pulled these

particular fish from the water. It was a mirthless, horror-filled day, and one salty fisherman jumped into the water and drowned himself straight away. For him it was life-or-death

and the choice he made needs no further explanation. The fish had their vengeance, and no biped living on the coast would ever forget the Day the Fish Fished Back.