From the pages of Epitaph:
“May I degrade and humiliate the simpering cretins in the audience? Shatter their illusions, and sap their wills to continue the struggle to sustain their worthless existences?” the fish asked hopefully.
Tom considered the request.
“Just the hecklers,” he said. “Wait until one of them starts calling out stupid shit and then have at it.”
“I look forward to robbing another such heckler’s life of all hope and meaning. I can already taste his sad, lonely suicide in the parking lot of Guffaw’s Chuckle-Shack!”
“Another?” I asked.
“There’s no evidence the last one had anything to do with us,” Tom claimed.
Finally, the sordid tale can be told!
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