Fish and Bull stories are not always pleasant. Especially when they are precociously gifted. Especially when they can change into each other, where bulls have gills that breathe in the deep and fish has horns that tear apart clumps of hair. But then they switch. Again. Fish jumps back on dry land, no alcohol, arse frozen, museum of cold. Bull flies on an aeroplane, before cribbing around in city by the sea, fat men, hanging tongues, yoko ono shades, ah the electric embrace corrupted by local trains, unwelcome butt cracks of hosts on a two drag high. Fish in the meantime, lags behind late late nights,asks for forgiveness, from the larger gods of Switcheroo, so it can stop taking itself seriously, all the stink of the market,dead eyes bereft of pain, laughter sniggers, haltingly,prepares to move east for warmth. Bull is kind. Bull thinks about turning into twisted cat, white quilts, red in a colour blind world. Bull and fish pump blood to the heart. They are about to meet. Fish and bull decide to be nice to each other. Fish learns to cook and brings breakfast to the bed, buys bull and friends fancy hair gell, vibrating condoms. Happiness in a gas cylinder, grows, till medium gods of accident intervene, rips through the kitchen to leave scattered scales or flakes of horn, which one? i dont know which one blew up, the fish or the bull, for as one already knows they could change into each other..