“So you’re telling me this thing..” Mike paused for dramatic effect. “Is magic?”

“Yes? No! You’re not listening to me, just pay attention..”

He hadn’t, why would he? It was obvious nonsense, didn’t matter though — he’d wanted the book. The cover alone was worth the price of admission. The inscription seemed to move as you watched, and it had colours. All the colours. He’d opened it, the bookplate named a nearby School.

“Is this stolen? My Niece goes here..” Not true, she currently divided her time between drawing unicorns and believing she was a centuries-old demon, using specific and highly inappropriate information for a twelve-year-old. The Doctors would fix her soon enough.

“It’s not stolen. This knowledge exists ‘out of time’. Do you know what that means?”

“That you want more money?” Mike had flipped to a random page. “I’m not sure this is suitable for Children.”

“Look, it found you, but heed my warnings..”

“Yawn. You’re overselling this, you know. Look, I have to get back, here’s..” He’d pulled paper from his wallet, stuffed some back. Then some more. “Five? Take it or leave it.” Another random page, this one had words. He’d read aloud, grinning, for no other reason than annoying the vendor, and it’d worked.

“Fine! You don’t want to listen, you brought this upon..”

That was as much as he remembered.

The days blurred, not-working, working — surrounded by idiots, more not-working and sleep. Occasionally there was food and sex, sometimes at work.

It wasn’t what he’d signed up for.

He was Mike-flipping-Pierce! Number one, King of the Mountain, at least once upon a time. Today He worked for a kid only just out of nappies. Life placed him high on that mountain and buggered off. He pooped in the castle, picked up some gravel with his mouth, spat it back out. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Being a goldfish wasn’t terrible. He’d chosen it for a reason, symbolic of how life was passing him by. He watched as yet another member of his team dropped flaky food into the tank. Were they trying to kill him? He’d just leave it, he’d eaten plenty already, though they did look delicious, perhaps a closer inspection.

“Bollocks!” More a thought than a word, he had no vocal cords.

There were downsides, he compulsively ate everything dropped into the tank which moments later dropped out of his bottom. So much poop. The castle was full. Upside, he’d read goldfish only had 3 second memory spans, which turned out to be wrong, so he remembered this spell only lasted a day.

He swam around the small tank for the thousandth time, stared out at his desk. Mike wasn’t any old goldfish; he was the office fish. Mike had picked this one out as a fry, named him Finger, chosen the tank décor which, in hindsight, was a little boring. He loved this fish, he’d take care of things tomorrow — better castle, new gravel, a bubble thingy. Wouldn’t be long now. The clock on the wall said eleven-twenty, another couple of minutes should do it.

Night had been the worst, eight long hours in total blackness. He hadn’t slept at all. The pain a fish could feel swimming into obstacles was surprising, sheer agony — some warning would have been nice, He’d have serious words with that bookseller when back in his own body.

Tingling in his gills and stomach, different this time, no poop, it was time. Time for the incantation, he’d leave this body as Finger returned, happy days. He made one more mental reminder to get the bubble thing, and spoke.

Except he didn’t. Water rushed out of his mouth, but no words. He tried again, new panic — same result. The tingling became uncomfortable. If Finger returned and he was still here, he’d cease to exist. Vibrance left the world around him. It was happening, Mike’s mind chose that moment to remind him there was a proposal due on Tuesday.

“Bollocks!” More a thought than a word, he had no vocal cords.