Fishy Business

There was a partridge, you see, who, without so much as a "by your leave" or a "pardon me," went and swallowed a fish. A whole fish! Can you imagine? What a hog! This particular partridge, bless her feathery little heart, had already managed to cram a pear, a cat, a dog, and a hen into her surprisingly capacious self. And now, a fish! It’s enough to make your feathers stand on end.

The fish, a slippery, silvery thing, wriggled its way down, no doubt wondering what sort of peculiar digestive system it had landed itself in. It was a rather handsome fish, too, with scales that shimmered like a thousand tiny mirrors. But handsome or not, it was now part of the ever-growing, ever-jiggling menagerie inside the partridge.

Why, you ask, would a partridge swallow a fish? Well, it's a bit like asking why the sky is blue or why socks disappear in the laundry. Some things just *are*. But if you really must have a reason, a *partridge-logic* reason, it was to bite the hen. Yes, the hen! The one she’d previously swallowed, the one that was busy pecking the dog, who was busy trying to catch the cat, who was doing her best to wiggle, jiggle, and tickle her way towards the pear. It was all very convoluted, a feathered, furry, fruit-filled domino effect.