The morning smelled of raw fish and sweat

The morning smelled of raw fish and sweat as the boat pulled into the docks of the early hallow's eve. Daliah loved the smell, reminded her of home.

Mom was a hyperhidrotic mermaid, and dad was the Gorton's fisherman. Daliah was always made fun of for her scales and rubbery yellow skin, but she was born for the high seas. When

her dad was promoted to Admin Task Coordinator of Gorton's fish sticks they were moved to Ohio. No high seas there. Daliah's scales and yellow rubber rain slicker made her the laug

hing stock of the local port authorities, who spent most of their time eating fish sticks instead of doughnuts. The flat rectangular shape suited the local terrain. Besides, where

did fish sticks even come from, except between the pectoral fins of a fish? He liked to catch fish in a big bucket of water & drive out to throw them into the Grand Canyon, like

he enjoyed watching Nyimsava run down the canyon trail to fetch them. Nyim loved herself a fish stick. He did it on moonlit nights to avoid the heat. One day Nyim didn't return

his calls, and he wondered if his talking dog had grown silent from fear or from shame. He had told her he would never again strike her, but they had both known it was a lie. Liver

and bacon with mushy peas and gravy followed by sticky toffee pudding and cream was what he usually cooked her to make up. She quite liked it, but not enough to get beaten up on a

, much to his utter amazement, around the corner came Fat Albert with a baseball bat. "HEY HEY HEY! You messed with my sistah one tooo many times!" 5 minutes later: lesson learned.