Somewhere in Australia a fish crossed with

'ƨuɔinoɿɿɘq,' the backward deity of lost causes, looked down on the Australian FishToad with wonder. "Lo, I shall challenge this creature with folded stories for I am a trickster."

Meanwhile, in a city elsewhere, the Fishtoad grumbles quietly to himself. It had woken up far too early, and its coffee was not helping it realize the destruction it was causing.

Sufficient grounds for the Fishtoads bitter mood but the city seemed to wake early in this quarter & his buidlings odd circulation seemed retrograde. Smells of the neighbors coffee

permeated his bedroom at 4 am, disrupting his delicate sleep cycle and sabotaging his work performance. Without action, his career as a DBA would be finished. Fishtoads pulled out

the project the following week, refusing to explain why, but he suspected it had something to do with his incessant yawning during meetings. The Fishtoads account was the straw

That broke the budget, though it had saved many lives. Some Fishtoads came to testify about the programme. They dressed in green shirts and wore green boots. They served breakfast.

Which is where they gave themselves away when they refused to serve kippers with breakfast or even at all. Green shirts with green shoes came to mean Amphibian Self hater in all th

-e hippest lizard lounges. "How much do you loathe your scaly skin, on a scale of 9-10?," a snake hissed at them, obviously in denial about her inability to wear green shoes.

The snake kept reading out of Cosmo: "From 1-10 how do you rate your butt? How much dazzle in your smile? Are you faithful?" Her score yielded the result: bite yourself. She did.