Another �Great American Novel� by Jihan and Brynn
Note: This Great American Novel is not yet finished, but as parts of it are completed, I will update them here. Check back often!
Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five // Chapter Six
Chapter One: The Fish Who Lived
Many years ago, all the fish of all the oceans lived in peace. There were no wars, no global warming, but best of all, no projects. The fish were allowed to be whatever kind of fish they were without being discriminated (against). There were black fish, white fish, pinstriped fish, even Amish fish. Life was good. That is, until You-Know-Who came to power.
You-Know-Who. Okay, maybe you don't. Fine, I'll tell you, but I'm only saying it once. Mr. Doscher. The GFAT. (The Greatest Fisherman of All Time).
Now, You-Know-Who was not like the other fish. Well, first of all, he wasn't a fish. But that's beside the point. You-Know-Who was prejudiced towards all kinds of fish except albinos. He figured they were the ones who looked most like him.
This was the beginning of a long and terrible time for fish in all the seas. And oceans, rivers, lakes, ponds, you get the idea. Every afternoon, You-Know-Who would put a "Gone Fishing" sign up in his classroom window and, well, go fishing. He caught black fish, white fish, green fish, even Babel fish. And what did he do with these poor fishies? you may ask. Well, some Dark Lords drink unicorn blood to stay alive, since Dark Lords seem to be on the edge of kicking the bucket, so to speak. But this Dark Lord needed the life force of a creature purer than unicorns, and what else could that be but fish?
One day, You-Know-Who set his sights on the Amish fish family. There were forty-two members in this family, including all the cousins. Even the ones forty-two times removed. If that's possible. The GFAT apparated his boat to their home in the Great Barrier Reef. With a poof and a splash, he set up for a quiet day conducting his evil business. (Even when used for sinister purposes, fishing isn't that interesting.) One by one, he caught the poor little Amish fish unawares. They were watching a baseball game.
"Mommy- look! The ball just bounced off Carl Everett's head for a grand slam! The Expos beat the Red Sox! Mommy? You there? Hey- where'd everyone go?" The tiny Amish fish (his name was Marvin) had been so involved in watching the World Series that he failed to notice the other 41 members of his family being taken by The Fishing Line. Now he was the only one left.
You-Know-Who knew his job was all but finished. He just had to catch that one little fish, then he could go home to his classroom and...eat. Peering down into the water at the fish, he decided it was time for some fun. Instead of using The Fishing Line, You-Know-Who figured it would be just as easy, and much more enjoyable, to do the job himself. Of course, he'd need some help from The Fishing Rod. (insert ominous-sounding music)
The GFAT successfully apparated into the Amish fish home. He spotted Marvin sitting innocently on some coral, watching the World Series. He then took out The Rod, pointed it at the fish, and with a flash of green light, shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"
In the split second of time that passed between the curse and his death, Marvin shouted out the first and only phrase that came to his mind. "1918!" He didn't know how or why he said it, but it saved his life. The tiny Amish fish would forever be known as The Fish Who Lived.
Marvin grew up and moved on. He couldn't survive all alone, but he found a way. In fact, he was employed by an aquarium in New York. His scar: 
from You-Know-Who was an amazement to all. (Don't worry- we *will* mention Barry Cotter.)
The only problem with this arrangement was that Marvin was stuck in a glass tank all day. That is, until Barry Cotter visited the aquarium. (insert climatic music)
Barry Cotter was expecting a nice quiet day at the local aquarium. Fish, after all, are very helpful in reducing stress. Barry loved watching them swim. And eat. And swim some more.
He was particularly fascinated by a very small fish that had a very unusual scar. If he didn't know any better, he would have said it looked like a Yankees sign.
Barry Cotter didn't know any better. That scar WAS a Yankees sign. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "That's one spiffy fish. I wonder if there's anything else interesting about it."
"I'm Amish."
"Who said that?" asked Barry.
"I did. Me. Marvin. The Amish Fish."
So startled was Barry by this talking fish that he stumbled against the glass tank. Now, Barry was a construction worker. (Who saw that coming?) It just so happened that he had been carrying his lunch bag with him. But that's not the important part. The important part was that he was also carrying a� sledgehammer. The huge pinstriped sledgehammer smashed against the glass when Barry tripped, shattering it into forty-two tiny smithereens. The briny saltwater poured out, gushing all over the concrete floor. It needed a proper washing anyway.
Lucky for Barry, he had his towel with him. Barry wiped up the mess quickly and scurried away nervously. He conveniently disposed of the fake seaweed and coloured rocks in a trash can. "I swear, the glass practically vanished. Of course, that was only because I hit it. But no one needs to know that," Barry muttered. Only when he had made sure no aquarium workers would see the tank and get him sued did Barry look around for the Amish fish.
Marvin was no where to be found. From some hidden spot, though, Barry Cotter thought he heard a faint whisper. "Thanksss, amigo."
For Barry Cotter, life quickly returned to normal. So what, he saw a talking fish named Marvin. This was New York. These sort of things happen. Life goes on.
One morning, as Barry was heading out to go to work, he stopped in the lobby of his apartment to pick up his mail. Ok, so he did this every morning, but it was this particular morning that is significant to this story. This is because Barry found a very unusual piece of mail among the usual assortment of bills he recieved from companies demanding he pay them now or else. This unusual piece of mail, ominously enough, did not have a return address. Barry decided to open it anyway.
Mr. Barry Cotter,
After reading this very anonymous letter, Barry had the strangest feeling that it was written by someone who had a British accent. But that's beside the point. Barry figured it was probably some kid playing a prank on him, so he threw the letter in the trash along with the bills. He would take the 4 train on Thursday morning, but he sure wasn't going to any Restaurant at the End of the Universe. He had tickets to the Yankees/Red Sox game.
Now this whole time, the reader may have been wondering, "Where the photon is Marvin?" Or maybe you know already. You guessed it. Marvin and Barry would have yet another startling, unexpected meeting.
Marvin quickly decided he was not suited to the aquarium life. Too much peace- too much normalcy was involved. Marvin wanted to interact with people from outside worlds- literally. He wanted to take orders and serve good. Most of all, he wanted to meet people from Islington. So it was quite natural when he saw the ad:
HELP WANTED
Marvin applied right away.
**********
On this particular Thursday morning, Marvin was looking quite dapper as he set about his job at the Restaurant. He had on midnight blue dress robes and his badge which read:
Barry, on the other hand, was wearing his T-shirt with "1918" screenprinted across the front. He boarded the 4 train completely unaware of how he would be jolted out or reality. He was jolted- quite literally- through a teleportation vortex as the train left the station. And this was just the beginning.
Poor Barry.
The word "diagonally" indicates the direction in which Barry Cotter felt he was going while being teleported. Besides that, all he could feel was pain, and all he could see was pitch blackness. Except for one random moment when he came across three other people, or at least their molecules, who were also experiencing the...er...inconveniences of teleportation. He could have sworn they had name tags that read Ron, Sid, and Meg. "Whatever," he thought. "I'm probably just imagining things."
Though he wished he was, Barry knew he wasn't imagining things when all of a sudden and quite painfully, he stopped. Or rather, he fell. "That was weird," Barry said. "I wonder what just happened. I feel like I just got beat up by a rabid Red Sox fan. Wait a minute! I probably did. Oh well, at least I'm here now. I didn't even lose my ticket."
Barry proceded to stand up, with some difficulty, and walk over to what he thought was the entrance to Yankee Stadium. Little did he know it was really the front door to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.
"Good morning!" said the fish who was standing at the gate. "Do you have an invitation?"
As Barry entered the Restaurant, he was greeted by another aquatic creature, this one flashing a "Head Fish" badge. "Must be some sort of usher or something," he thought.
"This way to your place, sir," the fish said. He swished through a set of imposing doors gilt in silver and carved with images of cricket (or rather- Kwikkit) matches.
"These doors is very pleased to be serving the great Barry Cotter," they chimed cheerfully.
"No, wait." Barry grabbed at the fish's cloak. "Where's the stadium? And the stands? There's no baseball field in here."
The fish gave Barry a pointed look and waved at a passing fish carrying a huge tray of food.
"Oh. Well. I paid for a baseball game. A Yankees game! How do I get out of here?"
Small, irregulary-shaped tables filled up the room. Crowds of people (and aliens and dolphins) ate and spoke ravenously. All were served by fish in cloaks and robes. The ceiling displayed moving, changing scenes of people in various stages of panic. Occasionally, the words "DON'T PANIC" glimmered across the ceiling. They didn't seem to be helping the people in the scene.
"It's enchanted, you know. Every hour it simulates the end of the universe. Apparently the End involves lots of green light," the fish said.
On through the Great Mess Hall Barry wandered, trying to keep up with the fish. At one table, marked with a card reading, "Table 9 �" he saw a throng of British kids in black robes gathering around some boy with an ugly scar.
"Whatever." Barry was beyond astonishment by now.
"Here is your table. Enjoy the show. You will be served by Marvin." Barry sat down at Table 42 �. "Wait. Marvin? Fish? Why is that so familiar�? Oh well. Let's eat." He picked up the menu and opened to the appetizers.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to dine at The Restaurant and the End of the Universe. You are one of a select few to receive this invitation, so we would be highly disappointed if you chose not to attend. We are located, as the name implies, at the end of the universe. Please that the 4 subway train (the one that goes to Yankee Stadium) on Thursday morning, and you will be teleported here. We look forward to meeting and eating with you.
EMPLOYEES CAN:
- interact with people from outside worlds- literally
- take orders
- serve food
- meet people from Islington
- AND MUCH MORE
**The Restaurant at the End of the Universe**
(Take the 4 train on Thursday mornings)
KEEPER OF THE KEYS AND GROUNDS AT THE RESTAURANT AT THE END OF THE UNIVERSE
"You must be the new mascot! Wow...a fish! That's great! Some of those other mascots really creep me out. But I love fish!"
"Can I *please* see your invitation?"
"Invitation? What are you talking about? You're supposed to ask me for my ticket." Barry promptly took out his ticket and showed it to the fish.
"This will do," said the fish, and he let Barry through.
"What the photon?"
"Haven't you heard of the Sirius Black Cybernetics Corporation? Honestly, I'd have thought you would've read The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, A History. By some chap named Douglas Adams." The fish, grumbling irritably, lead the way into the Great Mess Hall.
"We have teams of efficient waiters ready to serve you, sir," the fish said impatiently.
"What is this- a restaurant?"
"The opportunity to dine at this establishment comes only once in a lifetime," the fish said, "And how can you resist the charming fishes?"
"Oh," Barry though for a moment. "Well, in that case�." The fish had convined him. Both of them walked into the Great Mess Hall.