ILLUSIONS OF GRANJURE
Knocked unconscious, Quinn dreamt of an infinite crystal blue body of water where he was the largest, bravest, most handsome specimen. He was the unchallenged ruler of the ocean, and other fish and sea creatures praised him for his majestic presence.
He sat upon a throne laced with shells, pearls and colorful coral. Before him, a musical band comprised of lobsters drumming upon assorted clam, oyster and mussel shells, a symphony of shrimp strumming their feelers together, created a stringed orchestra, and Puffer fish played conch shells like a brass section. Together they played a triumphant melody, suited for a king. Quinn, King of the Koi. The music stopped and his loyal subjects brought forth a man. It was Leonard the shop keeper. He was being brought before Quinn the King to be judged for the crime of pet slavery. He was accused of buying and selling animals to other humans for profit. Silence fell over the other fish as they waited for Quinn’s judgment.
“It’s me Quinn! Leonard. . . the nice old-man who raised you from a minnow! I gave you plenty to eat and lots of fresh water! I never treated you like a slave! Please, tell them to let me go!”
“It was all a plot! An injustice against me and my fellow animals to sell us to the highest bidder! You never cared about me. . . or any of us! I sentence you to life in a cage!”
“Nooooo!” Leonard’s voice trailed off as the dream faded out, and another materialized.
Moe was in a fish bowl hardly bigger than himself that sat alone on a table. He appeared to be battered and bruised. He had a sad look on his face that was uncharacteristic of the cheerful clownfish.
“What happened to you Moe?” Quinn asked off in the dream-state abyss.
“Is that you Quinn? I should have left with you when I had the chance. Those Siamese fighting fish were too much for me. They pummeled me pretty good. By the time they were done with me, no one wanted to see me in an aquarium. Nobody wants a sad nicked up clownfish, so I’m kept hidden all alone in this dark room in this bargain basement fish bowl. . . help me Quinn! Help me escape too!”
Quinn woke in a panic. He had washed up on a soft bed of grass, submerged because of risen tide. His whole body ached and he felt like Moe must have felt after the beating he had taken in the dream. It was only a dream though; Moe must have handled those two lunkheads.
Oh well, he couldn’t worry about that, the other dream was more to his liking. Himself a king? Maybe that was a prophecy—a glimpse of his destiny. He decided if he was to achieve that status, he couldn’t let something as petty as guilt, drive him to make decisions. Sometimes tough decisions had to be made, like leaving the cozy comfort of the pet shop to see the world and experience life, granted, what he had experienced thus far hadn’t been a joy ride.
He thought of something Leonard said to a frustrated spider monkey named Mickey, who was having a difficult time peeling an orange. “Don’t give up my little friend, nothing worth having ever comes easy.”
Memories such as this, seemed to contradict Quinn's theory of Leonard, and support the idea that he was a just a nice and wise old man. Just as he said in the dream, Like the shop keeper had said in his dream, he always fed Quinn well and never treated him badly.
Quinn's conscious was threatened to be overcome with a tidal wave of guilt. In order to build a wall of justification and fight the rising tide of remorse, he had himself the special treatment from the old-man, was all a ruse to fatten him up for the sale. He never truly cared for Quinn. It was just part of Leonard’s job to be nice to the animals so they wouldn’t suspect anything. Then he would sell them off to a life of slavery.
