This is the fish of my dreams.

This is the fish of my dreams.

It might be a small, ineffectual fish, but it is mine. A sardine. OK, so I am not the most imaginative accountancy lawyer, but I know how to get the job done! My latest case

loves too much. The fact that I make popping sounds when I sit down enhances my mystery. I make excel spreadsheets of inhuman complexity by day and sweet love to Mrs Bing next door

to neighbor to Marc Tivo, who also emits strange sounds when he travels from room to room. *Plop, plop, plop!* "Mr. Tivo would sit down already? That's really distracting!"

Marc Tivo sat down hard on a whoopie cushion. *BLART!* Then he giggled in a weird, high-pitched tone and would not stop, even when the police came and pistol-whipped him. He just

lay there laughing. As we suspected the cops stated laughing gas was in the whoppie cushion. Why are we laugh though Bradon and Brandon? You are smiled the cops but your too high t

Op hats give you away. I see you got something aromatic on your hands. It is not a stink bomb but oil of octopus. That is illegal. Did you know that? No?

What's illegal the oil or the octopus? he sneered. You know, I didn't even mean to participate in this fold- it's all Julie's fault. She's my goldfish, she jumped outta her bowl an

d I want everyone to know what a special pet she was. This is her epitaph. Julie was a good soul who never said anything inappropriate. She wasn't picky with her food, either. RIP.