"I wish I were dead," he muttered. "They'll never get me out of here."
Behind him, he heard the plop-plop of food tidbits landing on the floor of the tank as the onlookers sought to regain his attention. They must have come out of their moment of pique if they were trying to coax him to amuse them further.
"If I could find a bone in those hunks of fish, I'd kill myself," said Harris.
The dark shape of Big Fish settled over the tank, cutting off what little light there was like a cloud. Harris looked up resentfully.
I do not understand you, thought the monster. That would be very foolish.
"What—trying to commit suicide with a fish bone?"
No matter how, it would be extremely foolish, for then you would be dead.
Harris could not think of anything to say. He could not even think of anything to think, obviously, since none of his chaotic, half-formed thoughts brought a response.
It would be as if you had been eaten, insisted his friend.
"All right, all right! I won't do it then, if that'll make you happy," exclaimed Harris.