Mr. Bernard Sheldon walked across the waiting room to the cherry pine desk, un-noticed by the secretary seated behind it. After a few more moments of ignorance, Mr. Sheldon cried “Please! For the love of God! LOOK AT ME!”
            The receptionist peered over the side of the desk and looked at him. She was not sure what to say, because she had never seen a talking fish stick before.
            “um… Are you a fish stick?”
            “Yes! Yes! I am a fish stick. Ha ha ha – a talking fish stick, how bizarre and freaky. I know. I was surprised myself when I first noticed it. But here’s something: it gets old. I’m a fish stick, you’re a person. La-dee-da, lets get on with our lives.”
            “um… you’re a fish stick…”
            The fish stick slapped  the receptionist across the face. The fish stick is an abusive asshole, which he became after many years of being looked down on because of his fish sticky nature.
            “Sonofabitch! I just went over this! I want to make an appointment with the good doctor in there for next Tuesday, if that is at all possible.”
            “What should I put down for you? ‘Fish stick at three o’clock?’”
            “Ha ha! You could put down Mr. Bernard Sheldon at three o’clock, because that’s my name, but you didn’t bother to ask me that, did you?”
            “I wasn’t aware that fish sticks have names.”
            “And I wasn’t aware that secretaries were such bitches.”
            After a brief staredown between Mr. Sheldon and the secretary, the abusive talking fish stick let out an exasperated sigh and stormed out in a huff, and, unluckily for him, wandered straight into the path of a toddler that hadn’t eaten, and faster than you can say ‘pass the tartar,’ Mr. Bernard Sheldon was on the long unpleasant road to the youngsters diaper.
            And that is why you should always be nice to secretaries, and eat fish sticks before they grow up to be embittered and abusive.