When he suggested I should run for office,

When he suggested I should run for office, I laughed. Then I considered it. After all
I am the president of the United States of 'Murcia, but even that wasn't enough. I needed something more, something to motivate me.
I decided to hide a sardine in the crown of Madam Tussards wax museum portrait of King James of Aragorn. I went incognito as a spanish tourist, but my murcian accent caught the
attention of an WHO official, ironically, who caught a faint whiff of biopathogen on the sardine. The jig was up. Now I would never be nominated for the Nobel. I went into hiding.
I couldn't face the shame - they called me the Sardine Swindler, or the Fishy Fibber. I picked out a lovely cave on the rolling green hills of New Zealand and began living as a
cod walloper. Truth is, I hate fish. That's why I love to kill 'em. "Fish are friends, not food," said a Zealandic hippie who infiltrated my cave. I slapped him with a sturgeon. He
jumped back with the most crisp British salute I had ever seen in my life. I was so astonished by it that I lost control of the sturgeon I had slapped him with and followed it over
the edge and into the canal. I could see his fine figure, still saluting, shrink into the distance as the sturgeon, which had caught on my cuff link, dragged me out toward the sea.
I finally freed myself from the great fish but it had dragged me into the prop-wash of a tanker's screw. My lungs were on fire and the prop-wash was pulling me into the screw.
My one hope was to grab a prop blade, spin on it like a carnival ride, and let go at the right time. But when I let go I spun free of the prop and back into the fish’s mouth. Shit.

Started: 2014-10-06 15:08:08
Finished: 2022-12-15 17:58:32

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