Michael and the Fish

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writing

What do you call fish with no eyes?

Fsh.

Onwards…

They pressed their noses to the glass.

“Fish!” said the child, delightedly.

“That’s right,” said Miss Potts encouragingly, “they’re fish.”

“Fish!” said Michael again, moved to speech at the sight of a bright orange specimen which flicked its tail at him and disappeared behind the ruined castle. Miss Potts often brought Michael to the school’s fishtank. He would stand still, for a good three minutes or so, looking intently at the vivid fish which danced before him. He was fascinated by the constant stream of bubbles which floated up from the ceramic treasure chest.

His favourite, however, was the pink – was it a flower? Miss Potts had seen them on the tables in Pizza Express, but couldn’t think of what they were – plants, which had large vibrant petals interrupted by an angry yellow phallus, which seemed to leer at Miss Potts.

“Willy!” screamed Michael ecstatically, pointing to the yellow offender. Quickly, Miss Potts started pointing out the other points of the aquarium: the jagged rocks which were always covered in limpet-like fish, brought in to eat the green slime; the plastic shipwreck which lay forlornly on the multicoloured pebbles; the blinding light that shone from above, making the fish feel they were in the tropics, but which gave Miss Potts a headache if she looked at it for too long. Michael had forgotten about the willy now, and instead was inspecting a rather jazzy blue number coming from the castle.

“Ribbon,” he said, pointing to the trail of excrement which twirled poetically behind it.

“Let’s go back to class, Michael,” sighed Miss Potts.

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The Author

Hello! I'm Brigid. I live in London and work in a primary school. My ambition is to be a children's author and illustrator. I also like listening to 80s music and dancing like a loon. My heart dances to vintage dresses, mini coopers, brass bands and hula hoops. Proud owner of goldfish and a pink ukulele. This blog is a mishmash of my general life. I hope you enjoy it.

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