The fish boy lay there in the pick up truck loaded with melting ice. Flies buzzed around him, and some landed
on him.
"So what's the catch of the day, Zander?" Milo the sword-swallowing clown asked, as he ambled over to the
truck.
"Merman," Zander said succintly.
"Whoa! It is a real merman!"
"That's what I said. Now is the big water tank ready for him?" Zander asked.
"Yeah, we go the tank ready like you said, but I'm not sure if it'll be big enough for this creature," Milo
said thoughtfully, "He needs more like a dolphin or whale tank."
"He'll be tankful for what he gets," snapped Zander, "Now help me load him into the wheelbarrow, and we'll get
him back in water before he dies. After all he's a fish out of water now."
"Yes, sir," Milo answered emptying the manure out of the wheel barrow, and using a rag to clean it a bit. Then
they loaded ice into it, and set David on top of the ice. Then they threw more ice on top of David to help
keep him fresh.
David stared glassy-eyed at the carnival wagons and tents, and the outlandish clown and Zander the gypsy
ringmaster. It was too surreal to be real. He was wheeled into a blue and green striped tent with a poster
hanging by the door proclaiming, "Romano's Remarkable Traveling Show Presents One of the Seven Wonders of the
Seven Seas!"
SPLASH.
His head hit the back of the glass tank and his tail curled up. It was about 4' diameter and 4' high
cylindrical glass enclosure. The water wasn't very oxygen rich, but it sure beat breathing air.
"The golden boy - er, golden merboy!" shouted Milo, "Step right up and see the goldfish merboy!"
David inhaled the algae filled water, and stared out at his captors through the distorting glass of his tank.
He felt like he was going to pieces, and right before their eyes he did. His golden scales shimmered and
exploded as he became a thousand shiny goldfish swimming in the tank.
"Damn!" cursed Zander, "Well, so he won't be a total loss, Milo, start using a net to fish out each goldfish
and put it in a tiny bowl. We'll give him - them away as prizes for the fishbowl toss."
"Yes, Mr. Zander, sir," Milo said in a sad tone, "I didn't know that's what happened to merfolk when they were
caught. No wonder you never see them on display."
"Oh, that just does not happen," Zander said in a soft voice that belied seething anger.
"Oh?"
"It takes a certain sort of nasty witch. You take care of the fish. I'll take care of Madame Maisar."
"Sir?"
"Just mind the fish. I need an exhibit to go with our sign!" he said storming off.