“Yes, I am a talking fish. What’s more, I’m a talking fish who wants to keep on talking for quite a few years.”
“Sushi, huh? Well, suppose I sushi your ass? How does that sound, Mr. Gourmet?”
“I have a cousin who’s a piranha. I could give him a call. Things could get real ugly real fast.”
“You can have dinner or you can be on Letterman. Every week. Think it over.”
“Sunken treasure? Shit, I’ve seen it all. What’s your pleasure, diamonds or doubloons? Or maybe you’re looking for Nazi submarines. Name it, dude. Just name it.”
“Yeah, you might as well eat me. I’m so full of pollution I’m going to die anyway. Damn the carcinogens, full speed ahead, right, Admiral?”
“I’m coated with mucous both as a protection against infection and because it improves my hydrodynamics. You’d be surprised. I mean, I could talk about the hydrodynamics of mucous all day. Of course, if you’re not interested, you could just kill me and consume my still trembling flesh. It’s pretty much your call.”
“I was hoping to see my kids again—the ones that haven’t been eaten, I mean.”
“You look like a guy who’s summoning up the courage to free his soul from the nets and limitations of a species-specific morality.”
“If I were one of those damn seal pups you’d be taking me out to dinner.”
