Master of None

The advantages of specialization are so obvious that, today, we don't even know how to recognize a competent syncretist!
Freddy the Fish glanced at the folded newspaper beside him on the bench. A little one-column headline caught his eye:
MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS FROM OUTER SPACE
Probably from Cygnus, he said.
Freddy mashed a peanut, popped the meat into his mouth, and tossed the shell to the curb in front of his bench. He munched and idly watched two sparrows arguing over the discarded delicacy; the victor flitted to the head of a statue, let go a triumphant dropping onto the marble nose, and hopped to a nearby branch.
Serves him right, Freddy said. He yawned and rubbed the stubble on his chin. Not yet long enough for scissors, he decided. He pulled his feet up on the bench, twisting in an effort to get comfortable. The sun was in his eyes, so he reclaimed the discarded newspaper and spread it over his face. His eyes momentarily focused on MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS FROM OUTER SPACE, right over his nose.
Sure, Cygnus, he muttered, and closed his eyes and dropped off to sleep.
When he was awakened, it was by an excited hand shaking his shoulder and a panting, Freddy! Freddy! Lookit the Extra just came out!
Freddy slowly sat up, ascertained the identity of the intruder and the fact that the sun was setting, and said, Good evening, Willy. Please stop rattling that paper in my face.
But just read it, Freddy, Willy shrieked, waving the paper so frantically that Freddy couldn't make out the big black headline. 'Positive contact from another planet,' the guy was yellin'. They put out an Extra so I snitched one from the boy. Read it to me, huh, Freddy? I'm dyin' o' curious.
So give it here and I'll read it for you. Quit shakin' it or you'll tear it all up, Freddy snorted.
Read it to me, huh, Freddy, Willy said, handing over the paper. I don't know no one else that reads so good.