38 'Carnivores' or 'Night Fishing'
An orange eye set deep in a ravenous nocturnal predator was all we saw, apart from the long silver flashing body. Silver flashing bodies. As we looked there were more and then more, catching the light from the moon. Carnivores.
"How'dya like to be married to one of them?", I said.
"I am", he replied, quietly. Not sadly or bitterly, but resignedly.
A shaft of my unwitting pertinence glanced roguishly over its shoulder as I stumbled gamely (or lamely a it turned out) onwards.
"Does she have a nice tail?"
"No", murmured the stranger, "not any more".
"What next?", I thought.
I turned slowly, I felt the barracuda panic and stampede for the reef.
"Listen kid, where I come from, men are men and women are possessed. I am disrobed of my dignity ( these weren't my actual words, but near enough) I thought she was my woman but she done me wrong".
A small cloud passed unhurriedly overhead, and everything became clear.
© Ian Gillan 1998
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