Words of the Constant

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Kind

Survivor

Fish

Wilson P. Higgsbury

Now I shall eat for a day.

Remarkable! Upon its death, 'X's appear on its eyes.

Blub blub, little chum.

I've caught it!

Poisson!

Meat of the sea!

Fresh from the murky depths.

It could stand to be fried.

It was flopping around desperately for life. The poor fool.

Ah, dead fish. The most unappetising of all smells.

Ms. Wickerbottom

Some kind of whitefish, I believe.

'TIS FLOPPY FISH

Slippery fishy!

Is fishy.

Looks like a cod.

Fish! One o'me favorites.

Glub Glub

IT'S TO SCALE