This is the eighth in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing from 2nd December 2012 until the 1st December 2013. It’s intent is to keep me writing throughout the year, and not just in November. you can find out more about the challenge here.
The Rambo Trout, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 7th December 2012
Word count: 759
Theme: random acts of violence, crazy, anthropomorphic animals, revenge
The story:
How a trout came to be carrying a blunderbuss, no one knew. Everyone knew, or thought they knew, trout were good for two things. Eating, and swimming. This one, however, was different.
He came walking down the street, carrying his blunderbuss with a very intent face.
Many conspiracy theorists have postulated that it was a set up, that the trout knew what would happen. That he even planned for it, making it cold blooded murder. I can’t speak to the trout’s intent, but I can testify to what i saw at least.
The trout was walking along the Queen’s Promenade in Blackpool, carrying the antique gun as I already stated. Now being that he was a fish very much out of water he did attract a lot of attention from cats. These cats weren’t like this strange trout though, they were just normal cats, and they didn’t realise what the trout carried.
As the army of cats approached, he turned, aimed the blunderbuss which was about as odd a thing as I had ever seen, and he fired.
A split second later, four cats were dead. The rest, the wounded and the uninjured, fled. Cats are smart enough without being special I guess.
The trout didn’t even stop to count the bodies, he continued on his way, reloading the blunderbuss as he went. Everyone around was in a state shock, I mean you don’t see a fish kill several cats every day. I don’t even know what came over me, but I decided to follow the trout, I walked down the street on the opposite side from the trout. I wasn’t the only one, but everyone avoided the coast side of the street just in case.
The trout didn’t care though, he just continued on regardless.
Up ahead a man approached him, he carried a blunderbuss too. Everyone that had been following ducked, peeople who were already on the street ducked in response.
“You dirty sticking rotten fish,” the man said, putting the blunderbuss to his shoulder and aiming. I saw through a car window I was crouched behind.
“Jim,” the trout said levelling his own blunderbuss, “We don’t have to do this.”
“Save me your crocodile tears,” Jim said.
“The crocodile wasn’t crying that day Jim, he was yodelling, you know what that means,” the trout said. I had no idea what he meant, and no one elaborated.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jim said, “It is what it is, and now you die.”
“Don’t,” the trout warned, but Jim was already homing in on the strange fish. The fish didn’t wait though, he just pulled the trigger of his gun. It was an instantaneous mess of gore as the man called Jim’s left leg was torn clean off at the mid thigh.
I’ll never forget his scream as he hit the ground. He’d dropped his gun, and was reaching for it. The trout was there first, putting his own gun down he raised up Jim’s, pointed it at his head.
“Now Jim, you die, and it’s your own fault,” the trout said coldly and pulled the trigger aiming at his head. I don’t think I ever want to see something like that again, I’m not even sure I have the words to do it justice, so let’s just say disgustingly, almost cruelly, the pattern on the pavement was like a rose.
I’m not afraid to say I vomited. I wasn’t the only one.
The trout ran off, carrying both blunderbuss’s. I didn’t see after this point, I only know what came back by word of mouth. Hardier people than me carried on following.
The trout fled all the way down to Blackpool Tower, and climbed it. By then the police were well aware of what was going on, we saw them flooding over the murder scene, with several other police cars tearing down the promenade after the fish.
What happened next seems almost mundane. The police had the trout surrounded, he was at the top of the tower, and the police were inside and out. He fired the blunderbuss’s, both of them into the air, and then threw them down.
Supposedly he shouted, “It was self defence.” Then threw himself off the top of the tower.
It was was a strange way for a fish to go out I thought, but this was no ordinary fish.
The most worrying part is they never discovered the body. Maybe that unusual trout lived, and it’s out there somewhere.
I just hope it doesn’t mind witnesses.
Well that’s it, that’s all I know.
This was inspired by craziness at the Leeds chapter of NaNoWriMo’s TGIO party (where we celebrate making it through November together). We passed around some note pads, everyone adding a line to the story each round. It was definitely crazy.
You can find what prompted this little story here.
Proof that you can leave November, but NaNoWriMo never leaves you.
Aspiring 