Living in Northport, surrounded by maritime paraphernalia and an easy-going coastal spirit, it is hard to imagine any great danger befalling our neighbors and besieging our quaint and humble town.  The truth is that we don’t have to imagine it– no great danger in the form of North Korean Submarines or Iranian dirty bombs or even simple water pollution. We don’t have to imagine it because it already happened.

Many years ago, reaching back to near-ancient generations, our quiet streets and simple abodes suffered from a constant onslaught of flying fish– nature’s own abomination.  In history and the years before it great throngs of these winged creatures would stage ambushes from the Sound, slicing through any who tried to defend themselves with their razor-sharp wings; before carrying away small children back into the watery abyss from which they emerged.  These battles were not unique to Northport– all over the world, from the rivers of Ancient Babylonia to the frozen wastes of modern Siberia, man and flying fish are locked in eternal combat.

I understand that this might sound a bit outlandish, or even insane to some, but I ask that you listen to my words, for they are indeed fact.  There were records of our wars with the flying fish until our original local library burned down in the Great Fire of 1904. Ironically, the records of this fire were lost to another fire when it consumed the journalist’s office on the other side of town.  The records of that fire were also lost in another fire that occurred a few years later. Nonetheless, I plead that you should take a leap of faith and heed my warnings, for the flying fish menace is a real one.

The violence of flying fish make them an affront to the natural order.  Nature allocates for killing in the form of carnivores and defense, but slaughter is unnatural.  The all-consuming roaming hordes of flying fish picks the land clean. Turn your gaze to the seafloor, and mark how there is not a single tree left!  Not a bush or blade of grass remains, and now the winged demons from the depths massacre entire schools of fish faster than a fisherman could ever hope to!  Nature designs animals who kill to survive. They kill to maintain their safety and the security of their position in the food chain. Flying fish kill in the most brutal ways for mere sport.  Their concern is not their own survival, but the complete and absolute destruction of everything else. Nature produces carnivores, but not butchers.

Flying fish further upturn the natural order by their arrogant assumption of habitation in every terrestrial sphere: on land, in the air, and, of course, beneath the waves.  Nature creates creatures and assigns them each a single terrain to inhabit. The shark knows that its home is the sea, the boar dares not venture off land, and the hawk stays within the air.  The flying fish, however, has declared itself to be better than nature, and thus lives in the water, hunts on land, and travels in the sky. It professes its own presumed greatness in this manner and cares not for the standard of Nature, its creator.  Flying fish expect Nature to kneel to them, instead of every other creature who roams this earth and pays homage, or at least respect, to Nature.

The vainglory of the Flying fish species does not stop there.  In their evolution they have decided that respectable fins were not enough to sate their hunger for pure killing power.  They grew wings out of spite for the living, great sharp beams of scales from either side of their body meant for no other reason but to kill and fly.  And why did they wish to fly? So that they might travel greater distances, reach greater heights, and kill greater numbers. Their entire anatomy is one formed in the hottest forges in the depths of Hell.  They are an unholy conglomeration of pieces not meant to be together, and of pieces that never should have been together. Such a monstrous summation of monstrous parts stands as an insult to every natural article that Nature has created.

These facts of the sociology and anatomy of flying fish, along with their bloodstained history, have lead me to the ultimate conclusion that flying fish are the most vile affront to the natural order the world has ever seen.  I must doubt that they are a creation. I must doubt that they are Nature’s own abomination for they are not created by Nature, but rather by hammer and anvil by the demons of Hell. I beseech you, heed my works! Lie not in contemptuous sloth, but take up arms to defeat this winged menace!  Send them back to the waters from which they came from, and when we have done this, send them back to Hell! If they have no place in the natural order of Earth, then dismiss them from it!