Stretching for the famous fish

.

Not just any famous fish, of course. I don't want you to think I'm that kind of ichthyophile. I mean the divine fish.

As a diehard ichthyolotrist, when I say stretching I mean it in the theological sense of killing the enemy squid and stretching its innards over coat-hangers that they may rot in the sun sending a sweet succor into the sky. The tricky part is timing it properly so the fumes break free of the atmosphere at the right time of night to pass through Pisces. (It's a religion that requires a lot of physics and math and stuff.)

Stretching for the famous fish is inherently satisfying though. As the fish says, I never said the stench would be worth it, just that it would keep the crazies off your back.

And that's all I've ever really wanted.