Hello Devilfish! by Ron Dakron

Author:Ron Dakron
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Three Rooms Press

/ 15 /

Life’s full of bees and surprises—with seaweed thrown in for zesty luck! That pretty much sums Tokyo up—surprise, bees, and seaweed—combine them at will. You’ll end up with either a failed game show, a new sushi chain or prostitot models slathered with honeycombs. Or a former stingray turned crude human who’s banging his pinky stump away on a sticky laptop. Was I researching human growth hormone for clues how to morph back into my proto-ray bod? Scouring med journals for DIY abstracts about how elbows work? Nope—I was just drunk—whee! After guzzling beaucoup sake from that croaked doc’s fridge. Look, I’m used to gulping whole rail cars full of rope-a-dope liquor—what, drunk on only nine sakes?

Plus even worse, I was surfing evil, evil Japanese match.com. That snuffed doc had at least twenty fetish hookup pages bookmarked—Vapid Creampie Housewife was my fave. Them submissive MILFs made my pants eel point up. Hah—there must be some dating lass here who craves a morphed kaiju for her personal household leech. And while sifting through this bevy of fuglies, career Nazis, and absolute loons—no, I would not wear a lobster costume at some coastal Kozu trannie weekend—I stumbled across Squidra’s profile. Which natch I didn’t know was Squidra’s yet—Hello Devilfish!

I see much of a kitten here! Really—that was the first line on her bizarre match.com page—I see much of a kitten! Hah—right above this crudely photoshopped pic of some thong-clad teen covered with—what are those?—squid tattoos? Along with some bizarre kraken costume accoutrements. Hello Horndog! And goodbye drool that I sprayed laughing—was this profile chick actually wearing rubber calamari socks and tentacle garters? Somehow I’d stumbled across the ultimo Marquis de Cod mate—who else would play at cephalopod sex? Even the Romans weren’t that kinky. But mostly I figured her as some art chick with maritime bravado, a Boheme trickster screening out the hapless with provocative lingo—’cause her entire profile was in Manglish! Custom writ for a mark like me. With wordage like I touched a tiny sawdust or Let’s have a biology or Hello Demon Fish! Hmmm—where’d I hear that phrase before?

Look—any other ray with our normal walnut-sized brain would’ve caught on it was Squidra! But my stupidity is brave—plus who knew she could type? Though that airbrushed babe’s kraken get-up should’ve set off every voopa voopa Star Trek red alert in my numb skull. But I was much intrigued—her fish shtick struck me as pure performance art. And no one bumps uglies like an art girl bent on new euphoria. Even so she kind of overdid it:

Me am want meet guy with guyness. Going nude! Do you pork? We simmer in your bed casserole. Do me with glad sauce! And you can say to a man with a job “You are much of a thing.” Hello Demon Fish! Let’s be glad with gladly qualities. I am learning your big language.

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