Children in 5/6J and 5/6W are exploring humorous short stories. They worked together to create the following Andy Griffith's inspired narrative.

A Fishy Situation
As I walk up the stairs to the foyer, the intense aroma of spices immediately torture my nostrils.  Why did the baby sitter have to come down sick tonight of all nights?  The several flashy fish swimming serenely around the giant tanks are oblivious to the fact that their future is destined to end on fancy porcelain plates.  If only they could speak English, I’d tell them!  I’d warn them and tell them to do their best triple back flip somersault out the tank. 

It’s been five hours since lunch and my stomach is rumbling like a distant thunderstorm.  Fortunately, it is dulled by the constant chatter of multiple conversations across the crowded room.  “Best behaviour remember Andy!” I’m reminded for the 526^th time since we left home.  If she tells me one more time, I swear I am going to scream or worse.  It’s like she’s daring me.  Double daring me.  Triple daring me.  526 times daring me.  She will be too busy sucking up to her new boss to even notice me tonight.  Damn that baby sitter!  If only I liked seafood.

Mum has just gotten the job at The Seafood Basket, the fanciest seafood restaurant in town.  I can tell she is nervous by the way her hands tremble and beads of sweat trickle down her face. She wants the night to go well and make a good impression.  Lame!  I am excited to try Bouillabaisse. Jen assured me it was a seafood-free dish.  Anything to calm the not-so-distant thunder storm in my stomach.

As the waitress places the steaming silver platter down in front of me, my mouth begins to water in anticipation.  This is going to be the best meal ever!  The colour slowly begins to drain from my face as the lid of the platter is removed.  What? Acid suddenly burns my oesophagus and my stomach heaves. An entire plate of disgusting, putrid, revolting seafood is staring at me.  Jen is looking so smug right now.  If only I could reach across the table and remove that stupid grin from her face.  I think my mum has ESP because she glares at me. 

I can see Mum's pleading eyes bore into me as I grab my napkin to stifle my gag.  Subtly, she reaches for me with her long red fingernails and I feel those nails dig into the soft flesh of my upper arm.

"Just eat the damn food," she hisses in my ear.

The small beady eyes of the lobster on my plate beg me not to do it.  Six long spindly legs stretch out across my plate balance on top of a pile of slimy oyster shells.  The fishy smell again turns my stomach.  I can't do this!  Dad is  now glaring at me and Jen still looks smug.  With a trembling hand, I spear a bite sized chunk of white lobster meat with my fork and raise it to my lips.  I stare at it for a moment before closing my eyes, opening my mouth and taking a deep breath.  As my teeth bite down on the cooked flesh, I retch again.  It happens!  I can't help it!  My mouth and stomach work in tandem against me. They have a mind of their own.  I choke and choke and choke.  My life flashes before my eyes. Is this the end? With one final heave, I jerk forward involuntarily and cough!  The rancid chunk of lobster soars from my mouth and shoots across the room like a disgusting shooting star.

My eyes track the foul morsel as it arcs through the air, skimming the cheek of an unaware waiter. I had no idea the power of my lungs could expel the lobster so violently that it would soar that far.  My choke had projected it so far that it landed with a dull plop in the fish tank on the other side of the restaurant.  I cringe in horror but thankfully, I seem to be the only one to notice the flying seafood.  That's when a brilliant idea occurs to me.  A few more coughs, a few more heaves, a few more lobster missiles and my plate will be clear!

I stab my next chunk and put it in my mouth.  This time, I avoid chewing.  I don't need to chew if my food is destined for the tank anyway. I managed to dispose of six more slimy nuggets this way before I notice Mum start to clue on.  She sends me a questioning glare.  This time I gulp down number seven while she watches.

"Mmm delicious!" I lie.  Mum gives me a tight smile and I know she doesn't believe me but she is too worried about making a scene.  I'm saved. Or so I thought.  This is bad!  This is very bad!  This is 526 times bad!  From the corner of my eye I spot the first one.  He slowly swims in circles then begins to gently roll to one side. As I watch, he tips completely before gradually ascending to the top of the tank.  The tank, which I now realise, is no longer

crystal clear.  Instead it has turned a cloudy shade of grey.  What have I done?

"Oh no" I gasp as fish number two begins to suffer the same fate.  This has gone from bad to worse.  He's not alone.  More fish float to the surface like buoys.

"Murderer," I whisper to myself.  They WERE lobster missiles!  Those poor innocent victims.

I quietly excuse myself and rush over to see if there's anything I can do.  I take deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself.  I don’t think it's working.  I'm almost hysterical as I reach the contaminated tank.  Do minors get jail time for murdering innocent fish? If not, Mum and Dad will certainly murder me when they figure out what I've done.  I've got to think fast.  I have to fix this fishy mess.

As I approach the cloudy grey tank, I realise it is larger than I first thought.  Up close I can see several floating fishy friends and on the bottom lay numerous chunky remnants of my lobster meal.  If I could scoop them out, I could save the rest.  "Great idea!" I think to myself. I quickly scan the restaurant floor to see if I have an audience. Clear!

Balancing on my best ballerina toes, I roll up my sleeve and reach in.  I know I have relatively long arms for a 12 year old, but they're not quite long enough.  I push aside a 'floaty' and reach further.  Just a little further will do it.  I can almost reach the bottom.  I raise one leg like the graceful ballerina I am.  I did it!  I can feel the sandy bottom and as I search around with my fingertips I discover one piece of slimy mush.  I quickly remove my dripping arm and deposit the mushy missile into my pocket.  Diving back in for number two, I am stretching like no one has ever stretched before.

All of a sudden my name booms across from the other side of the room. "ANDY!" Mum bellows. It is at this exact moment my foot slips from underneath me.  With more than half my body weight leaning over the fish tank, I flop in head first.  Kicking my legs and gulping for air I hear a big crack before I find myself lying on the restaurant foyer floor in a puddle of broken glass and flapping fish.

The restaurant, for the first time, is silent and if looks could kill, I'd be dead!  Mum, Dad, Jen, Mr Johnson and his wife are all leaning over me.  With their hands on hips and shaking heads I hear something about washing dishes to pay for the fish as well as a new tank.  Well, Mum always wanted me to get a job.