The Carped Crusader

“How long have you been out there, Max?” Smith called to his friend. Max swiveled in place. His dirty gold scales glinted in the spots of sunlight that peered through the brackish water. Greenish hues flitted across his iridescent sides as he moved.

“Since this morning,” Max replied.

“Okay, well, I’m sure you know this, but you’re gonna die,” said Smith, “that part of the river’s polluted. There was some sort of leak or spill or something last week.”

“Shu-duh,” Max scoffed, “why do you think I’m here?”

“My guess is a lapse in judgement bordering on insanity,” said Smith. He beckoned with his fin and added, “now get over here before you croak.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, friend-o,” said Max, “because this toxic mess is gonna give me super powers!” Smith’s tail twitched in surprise.

“Wow,” he said, “Kevin said you said that, but I honestly didn’t believe him.”

“Yeah, well, Kevin’s an ass!” Max snapped, “So what does he know?”

“I heard he can count past four,” Smith replied in a conversational tone.

What?” Asked Max, aghast, “there’s no way that’s possible. Our dumb little fish brains are too dinky for that.”

“No seriously, talk to him, it’s really cool. He’s around here somewhere. KEVIN!” Smith yelled into the surrounding muck.

“Wha- no! Don’t call Kevin!” Max cried.

“Too late, I already did,” Smith smirked, his black dot of an eye almost seeming to twinkle. “So, uh, what powers do you even think you’re even going to get from that human-garbage-runoff? Because, I don’t know if you knew this, but cancer isn’t s super power. It’s just sad.”

“Yes, Smith, I know cancer isn’t a super power,” said Max, bobbing with each beat in his sentence to sarcastically overemphasize his understanding. “I don’t know what sort of power I’m going to get. But that’s what’s so exciting!”

“Is something exciting going on?” Max centered his gaze on the fish who had just spoken. He’d apparently swam up to the other two in the midst of their conversation, as Max hadn’t previously noticed him. The fish had sturdy scales the color of burnt rust. He was a handsome fish, looking plump and healthy. He was also, according to Max, a pompous jerk-face.

Kevin,” Max hissed. Smith’s fins perked and he swiveled to face Kevin.

“Hey, Kevin! Max doesn’t believe you can count past four,” said Smith in a chipper tone.

Really?” asked Kevin, and looked from Max to Smith. Max could practically feel smugness excreting from the smug glands Kevin definitely had. “Maybe he’s just confused,” Kevin continued, “he has been in that toxic part of the river for six hours, after all.”

Oooooooohhh,” lowed Smith, sounding thoroughly impressed.

“Piss off, Kevin!” snarled Max.

“A’right, cool guy, I get it,” said Kevin. He swam away with his head held high.

“Wow,” said Smith, looking back to Max, “you’re a jerk.”