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“I said,” Squidra gets in my blue face, “you hurt my feelings .”
    â€œThen don’t have any, you bimbo— geeraa !” I roar at the flaccid heavens. It was a night full of dark and stuff. Where I’m reckless with booze action—Hello DTs! “Fuck off,” I snarl like barbed wire. “But I made reservations at McDonald’s,” Squidra sulks. So what again! Does she expect me to tag along and chew pimpled McWorkers? Human junk food gives me serious cramps. “You’d better love me,” Squidra growls. “Um, sure,” I flatten my ears. Uh oh—is Mr. Devilfish giving up? Nuh uh—like any true grifter I’m just stalling for time. Let’s chew my doleful boner! I’m your extra vague pal.
    I even mused about maybe just raping Squidra, pinning her with my dank wings while I drink her drooling fear. Mwah ha ha—I am Devilfish, destroyer of moods! But she’s way stronger than me and might just chomp my wiener off! It’s a weenie that deserves more history! You gotta do something to pass the time. I know—let’s have a delusion! Mine was I could brush Squidra’s crush off—as she cranked up her laser eyeball rays and made grim faces at me. Alright—me and her are gonna have an old-timey kaiju B-flick smack down! Hey, it beats porking her—she’s a fricking squid! Fucko—she looks like a bum’s glove stuck in a Coke bottle. Hello Product Spill-in!
    Anyway, then she totally whipped my blue butt. With screams and lasers and flailing kaiju pink parts—those were mostly hers—as we grappled and squashed pipes into an industrial wasteland. That we wasted! As crushed trucks and valves and factory glass got whipped into a gray pudding that slathered our wrestling bods. Geeraa ! Your angst is not welcome. Neither were Squidra’s blows—as she whomped me across a parking lot, crisping my flanks with her orange laser rays—ouch! Why do bad things happen to worse stingrays?
    I can haz sex burger? Anyway, we ended up tussling in some lab district, a steaming grid of hormone tanks and fetal slop troughs. I didn’t even get to gnaw any fleeing science nerds as Squidra tossed me at some purple tank covered with biohazard memes. I think it said HGHor Human Growth Hormone—which would def explain what happened next. I am a proud slob warrior! Fucko—nothing’s worse than getting beat by a girl—not even love with hot dumb sauce. Plus somehow I’d got my radiant tail jammed in that tank ladder—I couldn’t even sting her! Even writhing around and howling didn’t help—and it usually does. Ask any stripper. Plus I didn’t have my mace or rape whistle on me—so I decided to play dead. But Squidra didn’t fall for my fish corpse act. “You coward,” she hissed, “fight like a man.”
    â€œYou mean a human man?” I laughed. “And what—get smooshed by the millions? Screech around with flaming hair?” As Squidra closed in for the kill, flexing up on two tentacles and thrashing me with the night-spangled rest. Till I crashed through that tanker roof and into milky bio-muck. Where I fainted in HGH glop and wondered—hmmm—where was that extra-bacony sex burger?

/ 10 /
    â€œOw— geeraa —fricking ow ,” I muttered awake in the viscous depths. WTF methinks—was this a comatose daydream? Sheesh—my brainpan could’ve conjured up something more risqué than drowning in beige sex lube. ’Cause that’s what it smelled like—let’s have a sex! With garters and sneaky guilt. But coma or no, for some reason I couldn’t breathe liquids no more—which makes no sense for a stingray fish. Instead I choked and swam up through that lewd goo—my wing thrusts felt amazingly lame—and surfaced with a kerplop on the rim of that smashed HGH tank. Ick—human growth hormone