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It was in pristine condition. His mouth nearly watered at the sight.
It stuck to his plate, slimey and sticky, with a watery pus oozing out of its one eye socket. More leaked out with each languid blink of its eye, and a soft squelching sound came by as it slowly opened and closed its mouth. Its scales, which were supposed to be a nice silver blue, had melted together in certain places and turned purple -- although, in a few good places, the scales were completely missing.
In those sparse spots, the flesh underneath was a deep red, and a few of the veins beneath visibly pulsed much faster than they should for a creature of its size. Some of the veins had burst from the pressure, and the rupture left either inky bruises or a tear in the flesh that dripped blood onto the plate. The blood was thick and dark, however, almost like it was coagulating in its veins before it had even left its body.
Perhaps that was why the scales had turned purple -- they had been silver blue at one point, but had since been dyed purple from blood that was too thick to flow in the water.
He grabbed the lip of the plate and shook it ever so slightly. The yellow of the pus mixed with the pooling blood, creating an orange colour that complimented the scales well. It writhed weakly on his plate, gaping and peeling its eyes open as it looked around wildly. Its mouth opened, and he tilted the plate just enough so some of the blood and pus leaked its way back in.
He had to give the fisherman credit -- while not the most outwardly fucked up fish he had seen, it certainly had more to it than at first glance. It would be one to savour, for sure.
A smile bloomed on his face as he picked up his fork, and wildly stabbed it down into the center of the fish. He lifted it up above him and tilted his head back, feeling the blood and pus dribble down his neck until it eventually fell into his mouth.
He moaned as he swallowed it, and chewed individual clumps hidden in the liquid before they got caught in his throat. Some were sour and bitter, others were savory, and he didn't quite have enough experience yet to distinguish whether one came from the blood, the pus, or something else altogether. He licked the few drops left clinging to the fish and hummed.
Now for his favourite part.
He held it out before him on his fork, and kissed the fish square on the mouth. "Thank you," he said to the fish earnestly, "I will enjoy every bite."
And then he bit down on its head and ripped it off, feeling the blood run down his chin and digging into the fish's eyesocket with his tongue.
Ah, he thought, so it was the pus that was bitter.