Trout

The story started with a conversation I once had with Powell, but it didn't hit its full stride until a subsequent conversation with Martin and Alex at the office.

Me: I don't chase anyone anymore. I don't feel as if people respect me because I give too much. From now on, I'm a trout. If someone wants my attention bad enough, let them put some bait on a hook and come find me.

Martin: A trout?

Me: Yes. I am a trout. Je suis une truie!

The two of them laughed so hard, they were turning purple.

Alex [gasping]: You mean a 'truite'. Je suis une truite.

Me: Oh, I missed the 't'. What's a truie?

Martin [choking]: A female pig!

[More laughing at the cute writer speaking French]

So from that point on, the allusion spread across the office. Whenever I call any of my colleagues, the call display flashes 'Trout'. We sometimes conduct entire conversations by making fish noises.

It's all very funny, but I don't know if I can have faith in this system anymore. There are no lines in the water and I'm starting to feel very lonely. I don't want to be a trout if I'm the only stinking fish in the stream.

Help!

Oh, and I should probably stop listening to David Martel's Yours and Mine. It makes Trout sad.