The Fate of a Fish

One moment you're walking by the lake, watching dark clouds roll in and suffocate the skyline; the next moment there's a small flopping fish at your feet. It happened this morning when a fisherman accidentally tossed one of his bait fish onto the path in front of me at approximately 7:20AM. What a sucky start to the day for that fish--first, stabbed by a hook, then, tossed onto blacktop.

I am experiencing a surplus of umbrellas. There are two in my apartment--both compact and black, both from gift bags. At my desk there is the indestructible Wind-Pro Deluxe, with a system of strings underneath that causes it never to turn inside out (especially useful in the Windy City). In the trunk of my car there are three more: a silver umbrella with "Bloomingdale's" written all over it; a white one printed with comics from the Louisville Courier-Journal; and a faded red one with a curved wooden handle. Is that more umbrellas than a normal person needs? Severe weather be warned: I am armed.