THE MAGIC FISH

                                                                                                                                                                                          copyright © 1999 by Robert L. Blau

    Once upon a time there lived a poor fisherman and his wife.  The fisherman had two glaring deficiencies that prevented him from ever getting ahead:  he was hardworking and honest.  Fortunately, he had a wife who was always eager to remind him of his shortcomings.

    "Doctor your scales!" she would suggest.  "Short-change them!  Don't throw all those little fish back!  You can stuff them with sawdust and make them look bigger!"

    One day, the fisherman was having particularly poor luck.  It was time to return home, and he had not caught a single fish.  As he pulled in his net for the last time, however, he felt a tug.  He had caught something, and it felt pretty big.  When the net neared the surface, he realized that he had caught a small shark.  Before he could decide whether it was big enough to keep, the shark spoke to him.

    "Please don't kill me," blubbered the fish.  "I wouldn't taste good.  Have you ever eaten shark?"

    "Doesn't it taste like Chicken of the Sea?" asked the fisherman, too taken aback to wonder how the fish could talk.

    "No.  No, it doesn't," the shark assured him.  "It tastes terrible.  Trust me on this.  I even disgust myself.  If I had any choice, believe me, I would choose to be a better-tasting fish.  Look, there are other fish in the sea."

    By now, the shark was sobbing so pitifully that it broke the fisherman's heart.  I can't gut something that looks me in the eye and begs for its life, he thought.  Anyway, it's kind of small.

    "Ok," he said out loud.  "You can go."

    He opened the net, and, without another word, the shark was gone.

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    "Well, you seem to be in good spirits.  I guess you had a good day with the nets, huh?" the fisherman's wife prompted hopefully.

    "Actually, I only caught one fish.  But I let it go."

    The fisherman's wife struck her forehead with the heel of her hand.  "Nothing again?  Of all the men in the world, I have to choose this one.  I should have listened to my mother!"

    "But listen!" said the fisherman excitedly.  "I did a good deed!  I caught this shark, see?  And the funniest thing was that he begged for his life!  He was so pitiful, and kind of cute, that I let him go."

    "What!  You idiot!" screamed the wife, this time banging her head repeatedly against the wall.

    "He wasn't that big," offered the fisherman consolingly.

    "No, no," said the wife, recapturing her cool.  "In your many years of fishing experience, how many fish have spoken to you?"

    "Well, including this one, ..." pondered the fisherman, "... one."

    "You see?  That was a magic fish.  It can grant wishes.  You should have asked it for something in return for sparing its life."

    "But it felt so good just to do something nice.  The shark was so grateful.  Um, maybe it wasn't so grateful.  But it did seem very relieved."

    "Go back and ask it for a favor," said the wife.  "It owes you."

    "Go back?  Now?  How would I ever find it?  It's a big ocean out there."

    "Yes, now!"  insisted the wife.  "Just call it.  It's magic.  It'll find you."

    "How am I supposed to call it?  Yo!  Shark?"

    "Hmmm.  No, you should be more poetic.  Try something like

                    Shark, shark, in the drink,
                    Grant this wish before you think!

Or something like that.  Do I have to tell you everything?  Work on it!"

    "What would I ask for?"

    "Tell it you want a petrochemical plant."

    "A what?"

    "Don't worry about details.  I'll take care of those.  Just do it."

                                                           ******************************

    "Yo!  Shark!"  The fisherman felt a little foolish, not to mention frightened, bobbing around in the dark in his little boat.  "Maybe I should have worked on that poem," he mused.

    Before long, however, to the fisherman's immense surprise and relief, a dorsal fin cut the surface of the water and headed straight for the boat.  When the shark's snout emerged, however, the fisherman thought that he had summoned the wrong shark.  It had grown.  And it didn't look so cute anymore.

    "Can I help you?" asked the fish.  It was the same shark, all right.

    "Uh, I thought, that is, my wife thought that I ought to ask you for a favor."

    "A favor, huh?"

    "You know, since I spared your life and all ..."

    "I suppose I do owe you one," said the shark.  "What'll it be?  Wealth?  Power?  Looks?  You could use some help in that area, you know."

    "I beg your pardon!"  The fisherman was miffed, but he remembered that he was bobbing around in the ocean in the middle of the night talking to a shark, so he quickly returned to the point.  "My wife wants a petrochemical plant."

    "A petrochemical plant?  Kinky!  I like it," said the shark.  "Go home.  You have your petrochemical plant!"

    "By the way," ventured the fisherman, "how come you can talk?"

    "Don't know," admitted the shark.  "Maybe it was that flounder I ate."  And with that, he leapt out of the water and snapped off two fingers from the fisherman's left hand.

    "Ow!" yelped the fisherman.  "What was that for?  Didn't I spare your life?"

    "Yeah," said the shark.  "But now we're even.  And I just wanted to remind you that you are dealing with a shark."

    And, without another word, the shark was gone.

                                                            *****************************

    When the fisherman returned home, his hovel was still intact, but next to it was a gigantic building spewing multicolored effluent into the adjoining stream, and thence into the ocean.  The air didn't seem quite right, either.  But his wife was pleased.

    "Meet the CEO of Fishwife Chemicals," she said.  "I've had us moved into more suitable accommodations in the factory building, but I'm keeping the hovel.  You never know when it might come in handy."

    "The damn shark bit off two of my fingers," the fisherman groused.

    "You have to give something to get something," said his wife cheerfully.  "Go get a bandaid."

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    For a time, all went well.  Fishwife Chemicals prospered.  The fisherman and his wife moved to a spacious new house far from the chemical plant to escape its noxious fumes.  The fisherman's wife never let him learn anything about the business, but she provided him with an above-subsistence allowance, and he was content.

    Then, one day, the fisherman's wife came to see him.  Since she hadn't had her secretary summon him, he knew it had to be important.

    "You have to go talk to the shark again," she said.

    "Why?"

    "These government people keep inspecting the plant and telling me we have to clean up our effluent.  Tell the shark I don't want to be inspected."

    "I don't want to talk to the shark again," whimpered the fisherman.  "He was mean to me last time.  He won't grant me another wish.  He said we were even.  Anyway, shouldn't we clean up our mess?"

    "A lot you know!" scoffed the CEO-wife.  "Clean-up is expensive.  With expenses like that, we couldn't stay in business.  Think of all the jobs that would be lost!  Think of my obscene profits!  As for the shark, he's all bark and very little bite.  Those magic creatures can't discharge a blood debt that easily.  Be a man!  He'll back down.  Besides, if you don't go, I'll throw you out on your ear."

    "Since you put it that way, my Sweet, ..."

    "And while you're at it, take him these fish.  Call them a little attitude adjuster."

    "Where did you get those?  I didn't catch them!"

    "Of course you didn't, dear," said his wife.  "You charge too much."

    "But I thought you said I didn't charge enough!"

    "That was before I was buying," returned his wife reasonably.  "These are from little countries in Asia and the Caribbean that you never heard of.  Fishermen there make even less than you do.  You could say I'm moving some of my operations offshore.  Hee, hee."

                                                            ******************************

    "Yo!  Shark!"  The fisherman was less than enthusiastic, but soon the familiar dorsal fin approached.  Even before the shark's head cracked the surface, it was evident that he had grown considerably.

    "What is it this time, shorty?" the shark barked.  "Hurry up!  There's a great tuna run down there that I don't want to miss."

    "Look, this wasn't my idea," protested the fisherman.

    "So, get lost before I get really mad!" suggested the shark.

    "My wife doesn't want the plant to be inspected anymore.  And she sent these fish," said the fisherman.

    The shark brightened.  "Ooo!  Devious!" he crowed.  "Ok.  Go home.  It's taken care of."  And with that, he leapt out of the water and gulped down the fisherman's left arm.

    "Hey!" yowled the fisherman.  "Why did you do that?  I thought you liked the idea!"

    "I do," said the shark.  "But nothing is free."

    And, without another word, he was gone.

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    With the inspections at an end, life at the chemical plant returned to normal for a while.  The CEO-wife showed little appreciation for her husband's efforts, but she did pay the hospital bills.  When the fisherman was discharged, she had one small request to make of him.

    "Time to talk to the shark again," she said.

    "But I just got out of the hospital!" he protested.

    "When are you going to learn that this fantastic lifestyle of ours doesn't come free?" asked his wife reasonably.  "A limb here and there is a small price to pay for all these advantages.  Anyway, he took the left arm, and that was already missing two fingers."

    "Look," pleaded the fisherman.  "You already have wealth and power.  The plant hasn't been inspected in months.  What more could you want?"

    "I'm glad you asked.  Even though we aren't being inspected, there are all these laws and regulations we're supposed to follow.  We need permits!  We keep getting billed by the state, as if doing business were some sort of privilege that we need to pay for!  Tell the shark that I want to write the laws governing petrochemical plants."

    "Please don't make me do this," begged the fisherman.

    "If you think that shark roughed you up, wait'll I introduce you to my bodyguards.  And don't forget the barrel of fish."

                                                            *******************************

    "Yo!  Shark!"  He couldn't believe he was doing this again, but his wife could be pretty persuasive.  Soon the familiar dorsal fin approached.  The shark was now as big as the fisherman's boat.

    "This better be good," growled the shark.

    "It isn't," said the fisherman, dumping the fish, "but here goes.  My wife wants to write all the laws governing the operations of petrochemical plants."

    "My, how fiendish!" said the shark with a glint in his eye.  "I thought you said it wasn't good.  Go home.  It's done.  Except for our little ritual."

    And with that, the shark leapt out of the water and devoured the fisherman's remaining arm.

    "You keep doing that!" yelped the fisherman.  "Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?  Oh, I forgot.  You're a shark."

    The shark grinned.  And, without another word, he was gone.

                                                            ******************************

    This time, the hospital stay was quite lengthy.  The fisherman was desperately looking forward to sleeping once again in his own bed.  When, at last, he climbed in, however, he noticed a strong, fishy smell.

    "Wife!" he screamed.  "What's this awful stench about?"

    "Madame CEO to you," said his wife, giggling.  "You're the fisherman.  You figure it out."

    "Oh, no!" he screamed.  "It's that #@!&ing shark, isn't it?  You're screwing that shark!"

    "So?" she replied.  "What have you done for me lately?  Sharkie and I have a lot in common.  He's made it possible for me to reap ungodly profits without any accountability.  Besides, there's not much left of you.  By the way, I've had you moved back to the hovel.  I knew it would come in handy some day."

                                                          ********************************

    And so it was that the fisherman returned to his hovel.  Much to his surprise, however, his wife and her bodyguards came to visit him only a few days later.

    "Have you come to beat me up?" he asked with resignation.

    "Of course not," said his wife sweetly.  "It's time to talk to the shark again."

    "No!  No!" screamed the fisherman.  "Please beat me up instead!"

    "Nonsense!" said his wife soothingly.  "What would that accomplish?  I need a favor from the shark.  Unscrupulous people are suing me for all kinds of trivial things.  They're claiming pollution from my plant is causing their stupid cancer, among other things.  Some of them are even employees of mine.  Can you imagine that?  The ingratitude!  I don't want anyone to be able to sue me."

    "He's your lover," objected the fisherman.  "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

    "I already did.  He wants you."

    "I won't do it!"  insisted the fisherman, but the bodyguards had already picked him up and put him on the boat.  In a barrel next to the fish.

                                                                   ****************************

    The fisherman remained silent, hoping that the shark wouldn't be able to find him.  No such luck.  The dorsal fin was coming straight for the boat.  The shark was now twice the size of the boat.

    "How did you get so big?" whimpered the fisherman.

    The shark burped.  "I guess I should cut down a bit on the free fish," said the shark.  "Oh, what the heck!  Just tip that barrel over my way, would you?  Great!  Ok, your wife gets her wish."

    "Well," said the fisherman, bracing for the worst, "you might as well get on with it."

    "Relax," said the shark, gulping down the latest bribe.  "I couldn't eat you.  Besides, I kind of like you."

    With that, the shark smashed the boat to kindling and devoured the fisherman's legs.

    "Yeow!  I thought you said you couldn't eat me!"

    "Well, not all at once, anyway.  Don't worry.  You won't bleed to death.  Remember, I'm magic.  And I need you."

    "Why?  Why?" blubbered the fisherman.  "Why me?"

    "Legitimacy," said the shark.  "I can't do my magic for no reason.  I like, uh, doing business with your wife, but you're the one who spared my life.  I have to grant her wishes in your name."

    "In that case, I want you to restore my limbs, throw my wife in jail, and impale yourself on a harpoon!  Don't bother putting me anywhere.  I'll swim!"

    "Don't press your luck," advised the shark.  "I think I'll just keep you handy for those times I need legitimation."

    And, without another word, he swam off, with the fisherman in tow, bobbing like a cork.