Stories I'd Tell My Children (But Maybe Not Until They're Adults). Michael N. Marcus
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Sautéed piscatorial penises
Steve was hired to teach biology, but he wasn’t much of a teacher. He read each textbook chapter just before the students, misassembled a human skeleton and had trouble pronouncing words—even simple, short one-syllable words.
Steve’s first love was music, and hardly a day went by without his demonstrating some newly discovered sound that would emanate from one of the major orifices of the ventral or dorsal surfaces of his body.
But even if he had insufficient gas to belch or to fart, the show would still go on. Steve would treat our class to a mangled recitation of the cafeteria menu. He loved to announce “fried fish dicks” instead of fish sticks.
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