Three Nearisian peasants in their middle age caught some fish in a hole on the moon.

They brought them to our hot house and we were so impressed that we took the fish and chased the men away with a broom.

I pleaded with my colleagues not to experiment on the fish but they were stubborn and didn't listen. "Imagine the ramifications" I shouted, as they locked me in a closet.

Once in the closet I took a nap.

When I awoke I noticed the closet door was no longer locked and I let myself out. I saw my colleagues wrestling to fit tampons into various orafices of the fish who for some unknown reason had grown six times their original size. It occurred to me that my fellow botanists weren't having an easy time performing this rather unseemly exercise so I volunteered to help.

The fish were quite slimy which made it awkward and difficult to insert the tampons. Eventually, after about an hour of struggling, we were successful. We knew we were the first mortal botanists to fill a moon fish's orafice with an american made tampon. This excited us to such a state that we sliced open the fish, climbed inside them and began dancing around the lab. We had a good time doing this but soon the smell from inside the fish made us nauseous and we decided to stop that foolishness and get back to work. Unfortunately this was not possible, as the incision we had made to climb inside of the fish had healed. By a bizarre twist of fate we were now imprisoned inside the fish we had planned to exploit.

We lamented that it seemed unlikely the scientific community would ever be made aware of our great accomplishment.

While we were indulging ourselves with self- pity the door to our hot house opened and through the fishes eyes we saw the three Nearisians, who we had earlier treated so rudely, enter and walk slowly up to where we were lying on the floor. They appeared to understand fully what had transpired and without a word slung us over their shoulders and exited the hot house out on to the face of the moon. They didn't give us the impression of being in anyway preturbed. As a matter of fact I seem to recall one of them whistling a gay little melody and even skipping a few times during the journey, to what we presumed, to be the very hole in which they had caught the fish we were presently trapped inside. Instead of throwing us into the hole directly, as we had anticipated, they did something so unprecedented I almost dare not write about it for fear it will seem unbelievable. In fact the events that follow are rather embarrassing and I only tell them to you in the hopes that it might be therapeutic and helpful for my emotional recovery.

The three men laid us down gently a few yards distance from the hole, drew long shiny daggers from their belts and began slicing (as we had done earlier) a slit down the belly of the fish. We tremored as they began slithering their way inside and were quickly overcome by their sexual advances. We were subject to horrors inside those fish that few men could've endured and were ravaged with such ferocity that I still have bruises to this day. Needless to say, we were all quite traumitized by the experience. Luckily for us it is a Nearisian custom, following the inner sacred fish raping ritual, for the men to commit suicide and they did so rather hastily upon its conclusion.

In a condition of complete exhaustion and disbelief we slowly freed ourselves from the fish, rolling over the dead Nearisians and sliding out through the slits in the fishes bellies.

Feebly we attempted to rise to our feet and found ourselves staring blankly into the hole from which the fish had originated. I'm not sure how long we remained standing there because at that point time was of no concern to us. I believe I was the first to turn away from the hole, although I can't be certain, I'm pretty sure I was the only one to notice the fish begin to wiggle and flop in our direction. They were now the same size as when the Nearisians first presented them to us. I seperated my legs and watched as they passed under me and flung themselves down into the hole.

The last thing I remember of that dreadful day was the playful splashing sounds the fish made as they celebrated their return home.

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