Every (big gay purple) fish story has its eager-eyed, tail-whisking beginnings; overfed midsections…and sad, tear-spattered endings. But before we indulge our tears, dear reader (citation needed), let us first revive in our hearts the good times shared.
We learned of our neighbor’s dilemma: he, a manly-man of the manliest multiformity, found himself saddled with fish of a homosexualist coloration.
We learned of said neighbor’s efforts to sell or trade the ongoing exploits of Queer as Fish on, of all places, Craigslist.
Mostly we laughed.
But now the story has reached its inevitable conclusion. And though that we look upon it with heavy hearts, we can agree that it could have ended no other way.
The big gay purple fish were sold. All 7 of them. To a mystic, shamanistic woman of means and iron skillets. And according to our sources, the sizzles and smells of purple fish could be heard and smelled several counties away.