Group Banter Race to a million

A new addition to the ever expanding millions comic range

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Fish & Grapefruit: The Case of the Passport Polka

It was a Tuesday. Or possibly a Thursday. Fish had forgotten again, despite Grapefruit writing the date in marker on his tank.

In the detective office above Larry’s Discount Taxidermy, Fish spun in his chair wearing a leather jacket two sizes too small for his gills. He looked like a punk rock sardine who'd lost a bar fight with a tattoo gun.

Grapefruit, perched firmly on a stack of case files, narrowed her eyes. "You done spinning, or do I have to throw you back into the ocean of irrelevance?"

Fish grinned. “I spin because I’m free, Grapefruit. Like a koi in a swimming pool.”

She rolled her eyes so hard, a seed popped out.

Before the situation could get more citrusy, the phone rang.

Grapefruit answered. “Fish & Grapefruit Investigations. We fight crime. No, we don’t do birthday parties.”

She hung up, then immediately picked up again as it rang.

This time, it was serious.

“Customs just flagged a man at the airport with seventeen passports,” she said. “He’s claiming to be a freelance ambassador-slash-yoga instructor.”

Fish slapped his fins together. “That sounds exactly like my ex-stepdad!”

“Fish. You’re adopted.”

“Exactly.”


Scene: Airport Interrogation Room

The suspect, a man with an ascot, sunglasses indoors, and the smirk of someone who thinks Bitcoin is a personality, sat confidently.

“I am Prince Ricardo von Yogaville of New Finlandia,” he said. “These passports are for... flexibility.”

Grapefruit leaned forward. “You have documentation for countries that don’t exist. One of these is just a laminated Blockbuster card.”

Fish squinted. “Wait... is Yogaville real? Because I think I have a T-shirt.”

“Fish,” Grapefruit said, “if this guy told you he was a mermaid, you’d ask for dating tips.”

“I mean, he is well-moisturized.”

After Grapefruit found a hidden compartment in his suitcase full of stamps, glue sticks, and a surprisingly accurate Icelandic passport press, they had him.

As officers hauled the man away, Fish looked thoughtful.

“You know, if I had a fake passport, I’d go by ‘Finn Diesel.’ Or maybe ‘Gill Witherspoon.’”

Grapefruit sighed. “I swear, one day I’m going to squeeze you.”

“You say that like it’s not already happening, emotionally.”
Hahaha love this !
 
🧀 "The Legend of the Weird Cheesy Lamppost" 🧀

It all started one sunny afternoon in Parkaroo Park, when Fish the punk-styled fish tripped over a roller skate, flung into a shrub, and landed face-first in front of a glowing lamppost dripping with what looked suspiciously like... cheddar.


"GUYS!" he yelled, wiping cheese off his forehead. "Either I'm concussed or this lamppost is sweating dairy."


The whole crew arrived within minutes.


Hope the posh crow queen flew down and perched on the top. “It smells like a disgraceful fondue,” she declared, adjusting her crown.


“It’s not dairy,” insisted Red the genius penguin, pushing up her glasses. “It’s probably a government experiment or melted solar panels—”


“Mmm. Organic cheese?” Hugo the vegan hippy asked, sniffing it hopefully. “Or do you think it’s morally sourced?”


“IT'S A LAMP COVERED IN CHEESE,” Maddie the angry raccoon yelled, kicking it. “WHY ARE WE DISCUSSING THIS LIKE IT’S NORMAL?!”


Just then, the lamppost gave off a warm, golden glow and let out a faint squelch.


“Oh, rude,” said Sadie the dancing duck, pirouetting away dramatically.


“SUP,” said Tash, materializing behind the post. “You said ‘squelch.’”


Chris the excited puppy wagged his massive tail so hard he knocked over a bush. “Maybe Vanilla will think this lamp is so weird that I’m, like, the second most interesting thing in the park!”


Vanilla, the calm cow, blinked slowly. “I’m lactose intolerant,” she mooed flatly.


Amber the sarcastic red panda rolled her eyes. “Amazing. We’ve all assembled for a public cheese stick. Are we sure we’re the smart ones?”


Wonderoo stepped forward, sunglasses on and paw on hip. “It’s giving... retro brie-core. I kind of love it.”


Lexi the farmer horse inspected it. “Well, it ain’t plugged in, and it sure ain’t solar-powered. I reckon it's runnin' on weirdness.”


“Duuuude,” Casey the platypus muttered, lying on the grass. “What if it’s alive?”


Everyone screamed.


Storm the pretty chickadee fluttered to Fish’s shoulder. “If this lamppost eats us all, I just want you to know—”


Fish blushed. “Yes?!”


“—that you’ve got a leaf in your teeth.”


“Oh. Okay. Cool cool cool.”


Suddenly, the lamppost BURPED. A little puff of parmesan shot out the top.


They all froze.


Then Hope squawked, “Right. I’m out,” and flew off in a straight line.


The others scattered in chaos—Chris chasing Vanilla, Maddie throwing a pinecone at it, Sadie breakdancing away, and Red muttering scientific equations under her breath.


Only Tash remained. She poked the cheese.


“Sup,” she said again.


The lamppost blinked. Literally blinked.


Tash gasped. “Bro.”


And just like that, the lamppost turned off.


Everyone returned cautiously. Maddie had a stick. Hugo had snacks. Fish had a new theory involving interdimensional cheddar lords.


“Let’s never talk about this again,” Amber said, dusting herself off.


“Agreed,” said Red.


“Or…” said Wonderoo, already taking selfies with it, “...let’s start a podcast.”


And the legend of the Weird Cheesy Lamppost lived on.
 
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