Maulville Progstein, a small green fish was swimming
around a bottle of mineral water minding his business. He had been doing so
since waking two hours ago for there is little for a fish inside a bottle to do.
Although there was something bugging him. He had this innate desire to smoke a
cigarette.
He sat there. Well he didn’t sit there he doesn’t have a
behind to sit on. He slumped against the ridges of the plastic formed bottle
and laughed at the predicament he was in. “How have I ended up addicted to
cigarettes when I’m a water dwelling animal.” He said to nobody.
It turned out that the fish had just woken up from a four-day
bachelor party. The memory of this happening had been erased due to extensive
alcohol consumption
Their best friend Carter the Carp had intended on getting
married. Unfortunately, Carter had drowned
and would be unable to attend the wedding.
Maulvillle, looked out of their bottle and into the dross
interior of an unknown living room. There was a lime green sofa with an illustration
of camellias on its exterior. Mauville thought about what a great time they
would have if they were a sofa. No sofa has ever been addicted to cigarettes. Maulville
also had no way of smoking as he couldn’t leave his bottle or he would
suffocate and he didn’t have any plausible thumbs to operate a lighter. But
gosh did he want a cigarette. He didn’t even know how he had ended up addicted.
Perhaps someone had stuck a patch on him or put some sort of tobacco product in
his bottle. An E-syrup perhaps.
Maulville swam a few circles and looked at the sofa again.
“I bet you’ve never been stuck inside a bottle”
“I have actually” the sofa replied.
Maulville was stunned.
“Excuse me?”
The sofa was silent.
Maulville swam an anxious circle “How would you get
inside a bottle?”
“The same way those tiny boats get inside bottles.”
“How do they get inside bottles?”
“They’re put into a trance and ushered in. Then the boats
wake up and they’re inside these bottles and they have no idea how they got
there.”
“Is that so Maulville.” replied suspiciously. “Have you
got a cigarette”
“Let me check.” The sofa checked. “Hmm, I do, but… how am
I to give it to you? Neither of us have the capability to move a cigarette.”
“Can’t you put me in a trance”
“How did a fish get addicted to cigarettes?”
“I’m not sure.” Mauliville fastidiously replied. “To be
honest with you I’ve never had a thought before. And I’ve also never spoken to
a sofa.”
The sofa stared back coldly. Maulville anticipated a
reply but it never came. A grumbling sound brewed from inside the sofa a soft
gurgling with a oaky timbre.
“Are you okay?” Maulville was suddenly concerned for the
sofa’s health. It must be grating on one physical health to have people
constant slumping on you. Having to hold someone in a position for hours
“Look I didn’t mean to cause offence”
The sofa pursed it cushions together and spat a
cigarrette through the air. The perfectedly machined cylinder flew in a
sonorous arc. It tapped the exterior of Maulvilles bottle and landed a few centimetres
from the plastic bottle.
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