Swimming With The Fishes

It's your duty to be there for your family, regardless of the circumstances. This will help protect them while you're alive, and leave a meaningful legacy after you're gone.

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DISCLAIMER: This is an epic tale of betrayal, power, and murder. It is an allegory to the American dream, corporate malfeasance, and family. It brilliantly depicts the ruthless logic of capitalism, revealing the suffocating effect of profit on writing. It charts the rise and fall of the Mafia, a word you never hear from a fish. Enough said.

Hey Subtractors, you will not believe what happened to me Italian in the mourning, some really good riddance. So, in the middle of the deep sympathy from yesterday and the deathwish of a funeral tomorrow, not today, I will tell you what happened to my rumbling stomach like a freight train entering a sickening Sicilian curve at the enlightened red end of the dark tunnel. In fact, it wielded power not as a shield but as a scourge!

You know me, a scavenger of sorts, I was starving and therefore I decided to rob a food bank. Generally speaking, I am good at robberies, but not good enough at bank robberies as last time I got caught and served my master and nation behind bars for four years. I was lucky, as always, somebody else, I suppose even more desperate and needy, had pulled off the hit job. The food bank was empty, emptied of any food. I felt so bad, for the bankers, knowing hope died the last there. And when I was about to fold it leaving broken-hearted, my green eyes spotted a doughnut, one feccin´ doughnut, half bitten off, half adorned with a post-apocalyptic mold. Such a sorry sight, I realized, again, I was a nut and I needed some dough, again, playing the same old broken record, reiterating what describes me, what defines me, one feccin´ dough nut!

That dark Catch 22, no win situation lit a candle in my Helloween pumpkin, my head. An idea struck my boggled mind. How about eating my last aquarium fish? I did not feel too sorry for the poor fish, I felt bad because it was the last fish, the last Coca Cola in my desert, exhausting my last luxury food resort. My miserable rat´s a$$ food chain was about to be over. Eerily terrified, I could not even imagine or grasp the horror sight of my empty aquarium, that had been beautifully full of pricey colorful fish. I had always known I would fold it if I ever got to that critical point, my breaking point. And now, a dead man staring, I was facing the last fish swimming dilemma, to be or not to be, that was the hunger game question. My philosophically fishy question even stopped Shakespeare from turning in his grave. Yes, I have that special effect on literature icons. I make Deep Impact happen, I make things happen, with or without a gun. I just do! I am the Godfather.

If Trump, a balloonery billionaire, could drink aquarium bleach and get away with it, I knew I, an articulate scavenger, the mysterious messenger, God works in mysterious ways, could eat aquarium fish and get away with it as well. Scoring big points, I was right. It felt good, so fishy, a little weird, so organic, to smell fish, to eat fish. Fish, fish, feccin´ fish! Like the feccin´ nut, err, I meant doughnut! You were not thinking about your wife, or mistress, or even me, God forbid, were you, you perv? Beware, I am not the kind of sea horse you can ride!

To wrap up my ludicrous story, I made a new cross as the old was too heavy, and inspired by far-fetched, fired up Trump mimicking a disabled reporter, without sympathy and mercy, like the Spanish Inquisition, I tactless grabbed the fish by the P and swallowed. I swallowed the feccin´ fish, I ate it, just like that. I felt bliss. I felt satiated. The fish, on a biblical scale, the widow gave it all, she decided to sacrifice herself for me, wink, wink. I was so handsome, so irresistible, I was a killer. I was her only option, I was her death, she became my life. I loved her till death, hers, did us part. Or so I thought. I was wrong, dead wrong. I became her, she transformed me, I became one feccin´ fish. Was I dead? No! Was I a fish? Yes. But not just some normal fish, I was a golden fish, a gold mine, milking my scuba diving and snorkeling cashcow, boasting my underwater world, my new sea life, my fishy experience, swimming with the fishes. Fuck!

If someone is swimming with the fishes, they are dead, especially if they have been murdered. You have the privilege to feel my energy. 'Sleep with the fishes' is an alternative form of being murdered, such a murderous metaphor, sounds fishy, right? Ok, I am a little at a loss here. Why did I murder my last fish in the aquarium to become a goldfish? Because I was starving to death, I needed to eat, I needed to feed. Not because I am the Godfather!

Yes, I am one frickin´ goldfish now, only to fecc with you, turned up to ten, tits up. You know that crappy, cringy feeling when you go for broke without being woke and need to hit the jackpot without playing lottery. And you just swallowed me without noticing, whoops, gotcha! And your foul language did not even match my decibel volume. You swallowed the generous widower who gave it all while in need. So now that you became fish, not some normal stinky fish, but goldfish, know this:

Goldfish is a good omen, a spiritual symbol of good luck and good fortune. And because we are associated with abundance and prosperity, we grant wishes or make dreams come true, just like that.

How the hell on earth for heaven´s sake do you think you became goldfish, huh? Do not be a dummy, learn! Goldfish are gregarious, displaying schooling behavior, as well as the same types of feeding behaviors. I swallowed the widow, you swallowed the widower, both keen on passing the holy message of *generosity pays off* along. Yes, we are free in this tyranny. Yes, we will live forever because we are goldfish. Just remember who made you one! Do not have a 10 second memory span!

We are a team to be goldfish, so that we do not keep beating ourselves up for the loss. This is an important lesson for us all. Many of us over-achievers are too hard on ourselves, including dwelling on the mistakes of the past. And I made many. How about you?

We are very plentiful, just like generosity, pass it along, I share experience, you share money, yet not only money buys experience, trust me, I know. We reproduce easily. We offer large quantities of food. Since we are such an abundant gift from nature, we come to represent wealth and abundance. But I already told you, just a friendly reminder, not friendly fire. We are family, always remember that!

Today, the person who displays the fish symbol has accepted the New Testament teaching that Jesus Christ is their Lord and Savior.

So, in long conclusion, does my fishy experience represent profusion and fertility to you, or just another BullFish of mine? Will you know we multiply rapidly, for real?

Your lucky day, Subtractors, feel free to swim with me! Thus, this finny symbol deeply represents freedom from the shackles of status or caste. Will you know conjugal harmony and loyalty for goldfish usually swim in pairs? Do not panick, calm down, pointing a gun at you, at point blank range, sigh, I have a decent proposal for you. Fair is fair, Fair is only fair. Look, will you buy my Sea World DELUXE edition, shot, bang, bang, wink, wink, in Durban, South Africa, because my GPS pinpoints that bloody location? Bang, bang, I have no idea why. Why the cradle of humanity, Africa, why, why, when I am a killer? Why do I always have to pull the trigger after exhausting reasonable alternatives? Why are you triggered?

We all have traumas. If something triggers an event or situation, it causes it to begin to happen or exist. An emotional negative reaction, intense, caused by something that somehow relates to an upsetting time or happening in someone's life is tough. Triggers are anything that remind us of previous trauma.

When I am a killer, you wish I were just a natural-born thriller that portrays the American Mafia or organized crime. It is understandable. Relax, do not sweat it, I do not want to drown you with the fishes, creating confusion or a diversion to keep from answering a question. You cannot think of it as drowning the question in a river of words.

Ok, I repeat it one last time, see how nice and fair I play, giving you a choice, if you buy my Sea World DELUXE edition on my official Buymeacoffee page, nowhere else to be found, I will spare you being a large, dead fish wrapped in a bulletproof vest sleeping on the bottom of the ocean. Dig it? Dig it!

Sure, swimming with the sharks is not an option, operating among dangerous people can be fun, a lot of fun, serious entertainment. I have the power, I am the Godfather, for fish´s sake, shooting in the air, as the plot would thicken once upon atrocity, which might sicken … just exhausting reasonable alternatives here!

Smart move, smart choice, kudos, my friend! We are family, my thumb up, you have decided to swim with the tide and buy the Sea World DELUXE edition when everyone else does! I told you I grant wishes or make dreams come true. You want to see the sea world beauty, I will facilitate it for you. God gives life, I second it. Thank you.

BANG, BANG!

Does the dough nut have any kind of a moral code? Maybe I do.

Look, if one crosses a line, a line that should never be crossed, there will be serious consequences. I did not say this first. God did!

“You do wrong unto us, and we will come after you, doing to you as you have done to us.”

But, I make it clear, an eye for an eye might be the rule, I´m not taking the entire arm in trade for the finger they’ve taken from us. The response might be swift and brutal, but it’ll be about the same as the damage that they’re trying to avenge.

Actually, I have a strong moral code. I object in having you I don’t even know killed. I´m just trying to work the deal out to our mutual advantage. Though I have a clear idea on who deserves death and who doesn’t, I don´t serve justice, God does!

But don´t be a sociopath, scrap your inability to understand other people’s feelings or that they even have them, and resulting inability to feel remorse for hurting others!

I am the opposite. I not only understand other people’s emotions, but I am a master negotiator precisely because I know how to recognize and address both the emotional and rational needs of others. I know how to show sympathy to help a prideful man admit he needs help, how to reassure, to inspire either confidence or fear. Sociopaths cannot do this, because they have very little understanding of emotions, cannot read them in others, and often do not even recognize that other people have them.

These are life lessons from The Godfather

• Avoid making promises you can't keep. ...

• Never ask for something without extending your respect and friendship. ...

• Do not betray your family. ...

• Avoid reacting emotionally. ...

• Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. ...

• Establish friendships out of respect, business, and trust.

It's your duty to be there for your family, regardless of the circumstances. This will help protect them while you're alive, and leave a meaningful legacy after you're gone.

But who am I to teach you something? I am just the Godfather, a hunger game changer. Whoever feeds you crap like food for thought that there is no honor among thieves, that is pure BullFish, I own honor, bang, bang!

The provision of fish as bread is a sign of God's ultimate provision through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

So, after your third or fourth impression or reading this, am I essentially a good man or an evil man?

SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SWIM WITH ME, SWIMMING WITH THE FISHES IS TIMELESS AND PRICELESS ….

Snorkeling is swimming near the water's surface with the use of a mask and a breathing tube, called a snorkel. Snorkelers take in panoramic underwater views from above and don't deep dive into the water. Scuba diving is diving with the help of a self-contained underwater breathing apparatus, called a scuba.

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