THREE NIGHTS IN LAREDO
by V. Walker

	The boy, his clothing bloodied and torn, burst into the room where 
the elder townsmen held their meeting.  Gasping and wiping bloody foam from 
his lips, he told how a horde of intelligent barracuda had attacked the 
village, killing everyone they could catch and saving only the eyes as 
momentoes.  His story finished, the boy groaned and collapsed in a red heap 
on the floor.
	All the fishermen began to chuckle.  They weren't going to fall for 
that old gag.