If you have any decency left in you please kill me now.

For years Charlie the Tuna hoped he would be selected by Star-Kist Tuna. But the call never came.

“They always rejected me. Said I wasn’t fresh enough” said Charlie.

Rejected by Star-Kist Charlie resigned himself to a life in the sea, knowing he’d never be able to see the exotic land above the water.

Then one day he got caught in a net and pulled onto a boat.

I was ecstatic.  Finally my time had come. I was being selected as fresh enough for Star-Kist tuna. I felt important. It’s such an honor among my people to become Star-Kist tuna. I pictured my relatives back in the sea and how proud they’d be of me.

But it was not to be.  Once on board the ship Charlie realized to his horror that he had been captured by fish oil harvesters who were “fracking the sea” in an attempt to extract the valuable substance.

Charlie was kept in a cell until the ship docked. He was then taken to a fish oil extraction factory.

At first I thought, “Okay, so I won’t be tuna. They want my fish oil. How bad can this be?” I soon found out. I wasn’t going to die. The human bastards were going to keep me alive, feeding me with tubes so they could have a supply of fish oil.

Strapped to a fish oil extraction board, Charlie watched helplessly as he was cut open and tubes inserted under his scales.

I have never felt such pain in my life. I lost consciousness at first. I consider that brief interlude of unconsciousness a gift from god because I soon developed a tolerance and was never able to sleep for long.

Among the constant whir of extraction machines, bright lights and constant 55 degree Fahrenheit temperature in the fish oil extraction room Charlie found sleep fitful.

As tubes kept him fed, other tubes simultaneously extracted his fish oil.

I soon realized to my horror that it would never end. I would never die. The bastards were going to keep me alive indefinitely for my oil. One fish next to me couldn’t take it and died one night. I envied him, the lucky son of a bitch.

One of the fish oil harvesters, seeing Charlie’s distress, took pity and gave him some worms.

It’s nothing personal, he told me. We just need your fish oil because of the health benefits. I still was being tortured but that took a little of the sting off. At least I knew that I was helping people. That made me feel good. Between extractions of course.

Longing for death, but knowing that it wouldn’t come for years, Charlie retreated to a fantasy world underneath the sea.

In my dreams I’m swimming in the ocean, free and happy, with my wife and children. We don’t have a care in the world. Just swimming. Happy. It’s a warm feeling.

But as always, Charlie would soon be brought back to reality by the pumping of the extraction machines.

“If anyone has any decency left, please come to the extraction chamber and kill me” he whimpered hopelessly.

(16)