Unserious postmodern paintings.

The salmon had graduated top of its class from the Ivy League of Ichthyology, published three papers on upstream navigation efficiency, and…

The motmot had been giving advice for seventeen years, all of it technically correct and utterly useless. Today, it told the visiting…

The coal tit had inherited the coat from a departed uncle who swore it was worn at the coronation of a sparrow…

The halibut had been promoted three weeks ago, though no one remembered interviewing it. It arrived each morning at 8:15, placed its…

The bream had been told, by a very serious ichthyologist in a tweed jacket, that optimism was a structural property, not a…

The ray had come in for a routine cleaning, having heard the dentist offered a special plankton polish. It waited thirty-seven minutes,…

The tick had not fed in seventeen years, not since the summer the boy with the gap-toothed grin left his wool sock…

The ptarmigan had arrived precisely at 3:17 p.m., as invited, and had spent the intervening forty-two minutes practicing its bow in the…

The goldcrest had been told, once, that humility was a virtue. It took this to mean it should occupy as little of…

The barnacle had been there since Tuesday, or perhaps since the Cretaceous—it never bothered to keep track. It watched the tea grow…

The damselfly had been promised a rendezvous with a reed that never showed. It waited. Then it waited longer. Now, suspended above…

The avocet had been laminated not for preservation, but because the museum intern misread the label 'Do Not Touch' as 'Do Not…