From what he remembered, being a fish was a quiet life. You swam, you ate, you drifted near the bottom of the river if you needed to rest. There wasn't much room in a fish's brain for anything other than that, and the occasional desperate all-encompassing need to swim up stream. He had been in the middle of one of those when he had gotten caught in something, something taut across his path, and hauled up into the light. He was gasping, changing as fast as he could, but there were hands coming in to hold him down, and the net caught at him, and there was something around his wrists... and that was when he woke up, soaked in sweat, with two days growth worth of beard and a clock screeching that he had slept in far too long. There was a dinner planned for the senior board of Pacific Life tonight, one that he expected to go rather late, and he had meant to take a nap before he went. Now he would be lucky to make it on time at all. He dressed in a hurry, gave up on the hope of calling a taxi, and dashed out to the truck instead. It was ugly, huge, and what he did with it could only be called driving if you were being very charitable, but it would get him there in time. Probably.
He pulled out onto the street, just barely managing the clutch, and headed down towards the main road that got him to work. It was a small intersection, although one with a left turn light, and so he didn't think anything of flicking his signal and gliding right through when he saw the light was green. Except that there was a car barreling right towards him, seemingly unaware that it had a red light. He leaned on his horn and slammed the brakes, which caught- and then came loose with a hiss of air. "Swina bqllr!" he swore, as his truck bore down on the little green car.