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Free Wally
by Bill West

“I'm up here.”

“What?” I mumble. I drag my gaze from the pillowed crevasse of Maureen's cleavage, back to her stony glare.

“I was just wondering what your goldfish is called?” I lie. “Sorry, was that Molly?” I struggle to hear anything above the noise of a party in full swing.


I hesitate, uncertain whether Maureen is answering the question, or delivering a judgement.

“He's a beauty.” I declare as I sandwich my cheeks between my hands and do my classic impression of a goldfish gaping.

Sensing she is preparing to escape I launch into plan B.

“He looks good enough to eat!” I bellow in my best theatrical voice.

As my left hand delves into my pocket, to palm the golden sliver of carrot I prepared earlier, I plunge my right hand into the fish tank and catch Wally.

Maureen shrieks.

Staring maniacally into her eyes I say, “Yum, yum.” and drop the sliver of carrot into my mouth, and swallow.

There is something sharp, wriggling in my throat. I stare in disbelief at the oh so unconvincing slice of carrot in my other hand. I start to gag.

Pain explodes in my groin as Maureen grabs my shoulders and knees me.

I wretch and watch with envy as Wally's tail waves farewell as he slips down between Maureen's breasts.

I sink to the floor and adopt a foetal position.