Drink Like a Fishhead Morris

The story of a fish, man.

He was a rake. His clothes, demeanor, all of it. He had impeccable scales. He liked his drink. Because of his qualities he was popular with the mermaids and the octopi. He was a fish, and yet still human. He was the rakish Mr. Fishhead Morris. We all have our weaknesses, so why judge a fish because he enjoys a drink? Being in the water never truly quenched his thirst. No, he had a desire for greater things in life. Through rose lenses, or an alcoholic haze, perhaps he could glimpse his future. . . but for now he was content getting a beverage when he could spare a moment. He would contemplate, yet never pursue his full potential. "Yes, greatness will come, but for now, how about a drink?" To a passerby- an alcoholic. To his friends? A lost cause; but to himself? . . . he thought of himself as a simple fish, swimming to the currents of his own path.
To me?
A rakish, fishy, magnificent bastard.

Animal Fashions, up for one more week at IndyInk on 84 S. Broadway