A/N: This is a piece of fanfiction, and it does not belong on this site, but it is some of amusement, and I get more readers over here. Besides, Lovecraft encouraged this kind of stuff for his stories (Well, maybe not this piece).

This is something weird that my boyfriend and I came up with because we have had too much Lovecraftian things on the mind, and he bought the b-movie "Dagon", and I ended up watching it twice!!

Anyway, this story is a parody of H.P. Lovecraft's story "The Shadow Over Innsmouth" and that movie "Dagon" which is based on the story, but has some of its own unique storyline with it. Is this the disclaimer? I guess it is. This was written for entertainment purpose, and Mr. Lovecraft would have me skewered (along with the movie makers, who destroyed his stories) on the end of a rather sharp triton.

The Shadow Over Fintail

I received a letter not so long ago bidding me to come to a little place in Massachusetts with a picture of a girl attached. I was certain that this was the response to that Mail Order Bride ad I answered last month. I was impressed that I could actually acquire a woman in the States and not from some unknown third world country, and she wasn't a bad looking piece either. Yes, she was a bit green about the gills, and from some trick of light in the photo, it seemed to be true. Oh well, we all have our bad days, and who was I to be choosey? Her eyes seemed to be a bit too wide and spread apart from the face, but she had the cutest little puckered lips I have ever seen on a woman, and it just got better the further down the photo I looked.

So, I quickly packed up my bags, said a loving goodbye to my goldfish, and headed out the door to this lovely destination of Fintail. After arriving in Arkham, I took a room in a hotel called the Witch House Inn. I cornered the maid with multiple questions about this small town that my soon-to-be true love came from. She didn't understand a word of English, and my Spanish is not what it should be. Somehow one thing lead to another, and my jaw acquired a sizeable bruise that looked remarkably like Mexico. I was going to make a remark about such, but the aim of her knee to my loins deterred any more of my attempts at communications.

So, I settled down on my bed with the complimentary cable TV running as I perused the map and sightseeing brochure I picked up in the lobby. Fintail was not the best known of places to say the least, but the tour book didn't help any. When looking up the town, the page was filled with big bold letters that announced quite proudly "DON'T GO THERE!!" Maps have little dots for cities and stars for the capitol. This map had a fish skull with crossing fish skeletons to mark the place of my destination. True, I had to get out the spyglass to find it and then to make out such details.

Oh well, it had been a long day, and I threw myself back on the bed to sleep off the pint of Jack that I had used to soften the wounds of the maid. I found my sleep full of dreams. For some reason there was the sequence of the goldfish doing the Arabian Dance from Fantasia in my dream. The next thing I knew, Wanda (the girl whom I was making this journey for) had the little fish hanging out of her mouth. She mumbled some incoherent words. When I did my best to show my confusion and say a good firm "huh?", she grabbed me forcefully by the lapels and kissed me on the mouth, goldfish and all. I had the feeling that things would have gotten farther along, but that bloody maid showed up again and rolled me out of bed while calling me some interesting things whose meaning I knew not, but I am certain that they were none too good. Flipping the channel of the TV to some ungodly soap, she glared at me in that universal language that translated, "What the hell are you still doing here?" I threw up my hands and gave up.

Fintail may have been an obscure little backwater town that the brochure more or less said 'keep out', but there was a groovy little bus going there everyday, and I do mean groovy. It was an old rusted-over reject from the swinging 60's with multiple pictures of peace symbols, flowers, and certain weeds with bright psychedelic colors that swirled when you looked at them too long. The interior of the bus was filled with strobe lights and graffiti of things really best left unknown. The driver was a wild fellow with unkempt stringy blonde hair and glazed over glassy eyes. He smacked his full lips upon some dark green substance that I tool to be the certain weed found depicted on the side of the bus. He had a dirty, torn, tie-dyed Phish shirt on with more fantastic colors than peacock vomit.

"Hey, dude!" he said in that high cheerful hippie voice, "How's it hanging? Want to go to Fintail where all the real swell fish are?"

"That was the general idea," I answered, "How much is the fare?"

"Fare? What fare? We haven't had a fair in years in these parts, man . . . not since Hendrix came through town, and left just as quickly."

"I want to go to Fintail. How much to ride?" I inquired as I started to wonder if it was really safe to go with this lunatic.

"It's a free ride, man . . ." he replied as he proceeded to go into an off key song about free riding. I came to the firm conclusion that I really didn't want to go anywhere with this man, but I had no choice as he slammed the doors shut on the bus.

After awhile I found that Jim's company was not all that bad. I think it had to do with consuming some of those mushrooms he offered me. I was really quite hungry. After all, the maid threw me out of my room before I could have a proper breakfast. So, eating some strange mushroom that was cultivated under the dirty torn seat of an equally dirty reject hippie seemed like a logical thing to do at the time. Soon, every thing was groovy, and by the time we made it Fintail, both of us were singing some fine songs about peace, love, hash, and goldfish.

I staggered out of the bus and stumbled over the uneven pavement. I was halted from falling face forward onto the ground by the solid form of a woman, who smelled remarkably of fish and musk. It was not a good combination, and I was so glad that the strange little mushroom was the only thing in my stomach, otherwise there would have been some designer comments plastered on the walk. I looked up to see the oddly unblinking eyes of a rather well endowed woman, and I felt a strange caressing going up my back and other places best left unsaid. Just leave it that she seemed to have more limbs than humans were usually allotted. For someone I just met she was most friendly until I saw my wallet floating in amongst what appeared to be seaweed or it could have been tentacles. It was hard to say, given my state of mind due to the peace offering given to me by my chauffeur. Her widely spaced eyes calculated the contents of my meager wallet, then she spat some words that ladies should not know, and it taught me many words I did not know existed. With a strength not often found in the fairer sex, she flung me across the street, where I slammed into a door and slid down into a pile of something at the threshold.

Sorely, I arose to my feet and realized that I was at a quaint little café called Poopdeck's. Having not eaten anything of a substantial nature, I chose to enter this place. The interior reminded me of those old west bars. All noise fell silent and every eye turned my way. Some mouths even opened and closed in the manner of gasping fish.

"Hey, guys!" I enthused with more joy than any human should ever exhibit among such glaring and staring folk, who looked to be rough and hardened fishermen. I heard many a mumbling, as I took my seat at a rather unsteady table in the middle of the room. The words of "Jim", "bus", "mushrooms", and "stranger" came up quite often. I paid it no heed as I picked up the greasy menu. Being in a fishing town, I figured that seafood would be the main supplement here, and I was not disappointed. A waitress with an equally greasy uniform came over to me with her pad. She seemed to be one of those types who enjoyed their gum far too much and smacked it around with such vigor that the sides of her neck seemed to flap with it.

"I think I will have the calamari," I told her.

She nodded, and wrote it down on her ratty pad with an extra appendage. She made her way to the kitchen and yelled. "He says he'll take the calamari. Give it up, Frank. Your time has come!" She grabbed a cleaver from behind the register and headed through the double doors leading to the food preparation room.

There was the sound of a scuffle and many and various thuds. There were terrifying screams of pure unadulterated horror. Then there was an eerie ominous silence. A few minutes passed, then whistling a dirty ditty, my waitress return carrying a plate and furiously scribbling in her notebook at the same time. I looked at my left hand, then my right hand, and made a few calculations of my own. Something didn't quite add up here, but I was too hungry to care.

After inhaling my meal, I paid the waitress with the last of my funds. I hoped that I could find Wanda soon, or else I would be sleeping in some dark alley behind this restaurant. I showed the waitress the picture of my intended. She smirked and remarked "Mine are better, but I wouldn't go for a cheap skate like you."

"Do you know where I might find her?" I inquired.

She shook her head. "There is a big get together at the church tonight. The whole town will be there to give homage to our god," she replied.

I nodded my appreciation and headed out to the streets again. I had found myself a good church going girl. Who would have thought you could get such quality merchandise from the back of a girlie mag?

So, I made my way to the main church in town, whose spires (that looks remarkably like fish skeletons) I could see from my lowly position in the road. It looked to be only a couple of blocks away, but the sun started to make its descent in the sky by the time I got there. Oh well, that was the point of evening masses, now wasn't it. The best church lessons were taught after sundown between the pews. Trust me, I know from first hand experience.

Wondering what faith my sweet little guppy was, I looked up to see the title of the holy place scrawled in flowing letters "The Esoteric Order of Bubble Gurgle Bubble Bubble". I had to raise my eyebrows at that one. I had never heard of that sect before. Oh well, the mind is always opened to new ways when a lovely lady is involved and waiting and willing. So, I entered the structure with little to no reservations. The fishy smelling folks shuffled their ways into the pews, where they dutifully took their seats. I looked to the alter, where there was a series of stained glass windows depicting different oceanic scenes. One of the pictures looked remarkably like Mr. Limpit from that old black and white picture about Don Knotts becoming a fish. Another picture was of Charlie the Tuna and his StarKist tuna in fin. The one in the center of the two pictures was Shamu with a crown and scepter. Other pictures about the place has less enthusing themes. There was a picture of Disney's Little Mermaid. Ursula was doing unseemly things to her with those tentacles of hers. I was reminded of the woman I met in the streets upon my arrival at this place. Underneath the picture was written "The fate of the blasphemers".

Darkness fell over the congregation gathered, and the doors slammed shut with an ominous boom. A blue flicking light illuminated the altar, where there was a sizeable tank with what looked like piranhas and human remains. The light danced with the imperfection of shining through water. A man in a rubber suit of the Creature from the Black Lagoon made his way across the floor and slammed face first into the altar, fish tank and all. He mumbled some words that were not appropriate in a Holy House of God, then he dug out a pair of thick lens glasses from some fold of the costume. Placing them on his face, one had the strange impression of looking into the eyes of those types of goldfish with the bulging eyes, especially with how far apart this fellow's eyes were spaced. Situating himself in the appropriate pose, he pulled out several piece of seaweed and began making noises like gurgles and barks and whistles. It reminded me of the days when my gran made me go to those sermons, and it made about as much sense. Right when I was doing my usual thing when in church, and was scoping out the hot chicks there (not much to choose from amongst these deformed fishy looking folk), the congregations started a hearty chorus of "Fish Heads". I always liked the singing parts of these ceremonies. So, I joined right in with them. The sad thing was, I actually sounded good compared to these folks, and my singing usually made the dogs howl.

Then she appeared right up front. She was dressed in a ceremonial gown that looked like the bounty of the sea. She had all the sea shell in the proper place, and a one hell of a big starfish covered her middle. A thrill ran through my body when I saw where the squid was placed. She made that chatter of the town folk and everyone cheered. I had no idea what she said, but it sounded good, and I cheered as well. The assembly got up, and I did the same. We all shuffled, dragged, and slithered ourselves out across the church floor. I didn't want to stand out too much, so I hunched over my body and shuffled along in their peculiar way. We headed out to the harbor and climbed up a cliff. There, we gathered around my sea lily. With a smirk she turned about and raised her delicate little hands to the sea and spoke some more unintelligible words. She and several of her cohorts including the priest from the Black Lagoon pushed away a boulder into the churning ocean waters below. The biggest can of Tetra Fin fish food I ever saw sat there where the boulder once was. I raised my eyebrows at the sight. Where did they get that! Damn! How many fish did they have to feed? She took out two great handfuls and threw it gracefully out to sea. There was a great round of chattering and clicking coming from the area, and she threw back her head and made a great screech.

We all shuffled into a line and made our way to the cliff in the air of ceremony. Each member of the congregation took a handful of fish food and threw it in the sea. I shrugged. Oh well, when in Fintail, do what the fintailians do. Gran would never believe this kind of church going ons! Oh well, soon my turn came up, and I threw in the handful of delightfully smelly fish food.. Tentacles emerged from the water below and enwrapped me in their embrace. They explore every part of my body, and with an affectionate pat on the head, they withdrew. Shrugging, I moved on. The fish were even nice here.

The ceremony went on for a bit longer, and I didn't even fall asleep. This was a true feat for me, because not only could I not understand a bloody word they said, but I never could stay awake for religious functions. Finally, everyone went their separate ways, and I made my way to my soon to be wife paid in full. The priest from the Black Lagoon was with her, and he seemed far too affectionate to her for my liking. He kissed her several times and left sucker marks in inconvenient places. Being a man, I moved forward and insisted that he quit making the move on my mail order bride. He squawked something that didn't sound very complimentary to me and moved on. Her cheeks turned a cute shade of pink as she giggled like the bubbling of a stream.

With a smile and a heavily accented voice that would make any fintail curl in delight she told me, "No need to get your scales in a flutter. He's only my dad."

"Oh," I answered.

"You've been chosen with favor from the Great Bubble Gurgle Bubble Bubble!" she told me enthusiastically, as she jumped up and down. I liked her enthusiasm!

"Uh," I replied as I ran my hand through my hair, "Yeah. That was rather weird. Hey, I am here because of the letter I received from you. So, how about it," I remarked in my usual tact.

She crossed her dark eyes and muttered something in the town dialect. "What letter?" she finally queried.

I jumping as if shocked. I dug through my coat and came up with the piece of slimy paper. Damn! I shouldn't have stuck that fish sandwich in my pocket with it. She snatched it from me and gave it a good hearty sniff. I pulled back with chagrin. She gave me a charming little smile, and I forgot all my distress. She looked over my missive and laughed. "Ah, you are here for the fishy family reunion," she exclaimed.

"Family reunion?" I objected. I chose to ignore that first part. The second part was bad enough. I had this sinking feeling with the remaining two words.

"Yes," she answered, "You are my half brother . . . what can I say. Dad got around."

"Uh . . ." I commented, as I looked towards the monster from the Black Lagoon priest, who appeared to be picking fish lice from one of the female congregation with his mouth.

Although disappointed to no end that my mail order bride was not to be, I went to this fishy family reunion. It wasn't as bad as you might think. I got free food and board. The girls of the family were very friendly, and some of the guys were friendly . . . maybe friendlier than what I would like, but friendly all the same. We were all family, and romance was out of the question. This didn't seem to bother Wanda any, as I often felt something like tentacles running over my body when I talked to her. I had to get out of this place. Of course, this didn't stop me from spending the night at my half sister's and dad's place. I have slept in worse places that a communal bed. Actually, it was kind of fun. It has been awhile since I woke up with a foot in my mouth and I have slept with a fellow in a goofy rubber suit.

I got on the bus with the way out groovy Jim again. Some people learn from their mistakes. Others are doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. Jim and I not only shared a mushroom or two, but he had found some interesting seaweed that we both chewed on and took shots at a spit tune on the bus. Needless to say, he wasn't paying attention to the road, and we ended up in a ditch in some godforsaken place in the back woods nowhere near Arkham. It took me a month to get back home.

Now I sit in my study in my despair watching my goldfish swim around in their escapades. Somehow it is not the same. Georgie wiggles her fintail at me, and I think about her . . . and how sexy she is. Boy, I would like her to lay my eggs . . . what am I thinking!! Freddie tells and Hermie tell me things that no mortal man should know. It has to do with that rum drinking skeleton air toy. Don't ask! Maybe it was a mistake to leave that paradise called Fintail. Maybe I should go back there with my extended family here. Wanda was quite a looker, and you know the saying. Incest is best. I wonder if I would receive a tentacle up my nose for the suggestion. Do I care?