I always hated those horror movies that featured gelatinous monsters that squeeze under the door or ooze through a keyhole.

Why did the cheerleader always insist on walking the beach at night, everyone knew she was a food group based on the eerie soundtrack, if she’d taken off the Walkman she’d have known it too.

So why is it anglers share the same fate? There’s no soundtrack to warn us, but there’s ample proof something icky, sentient, and pissed, is headed our way…

I got it easy, as any colony based organism that is oozing across the stream bottom is going to pick the young fellow next to me – he’s less stringy, showers more often, and probably needs little accompaniment, at most a light Chianti or lukewarm Pepsi Light.

Foreign mussels and bunker oil is a tad offputting, but when the Violet Tunicate makes his move on my arse, I’m gonna stab his multi-threaded ocular ganglion with a lit cigar.

… would’ve saved the babe in the movie, except she thought they stank. Youth, shows you what they know.

Brownliners are surrounded by ooze, the hard part is determining the sentient and malevolent species. All of them move real slow, so there’s ample time to escape and evade.

After fighting off some particular sneaky Rock Snot, I had to ask myself, “what hideous crime did anglers commit that has all these oozing multicellular colonies wanting to get even?”

It came to me in a flash, if they was any bigger, we’d be eating them. Hell, we ate almost everything else in the water, in many cases we ate it twice..

Little wonder the gelatinous horde has a chip on its collective shoulder..

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