"Is that enough, or are you going to make me clean every fish in the Atlantic Ocean?" I asked Marlon after what felt like half an hour of nonstop work.
My hands were wet, sticky, and smelled like fish no matter how many times I wiped them on the rag beside the table. Several cleaned fish were already piled on one side, while the other side was a disgusting mess of scales, blood, guts, and things I really did not want to identify.
Marlon did not even look impressed.
Instead, he kept cutting through another fish with the same calm, practiced movements he used whenever he was holding a knife.
"Instead of always complaining, you should learn to appreciate useful teachings," he said. "In this world, fish are one of the most important food sources we have. You should learn how to make the most of them."
"Right," I muttered.
I looked down at the table again.
That was a mistake.
