The Pout Pout Fish By Debra Deeson, Pictures by Dan Hannah, Narrated by me. Deep in the water where the fish hang out lives a glum gloomy swimmer with an ever-present pout. I'm a pout pout fish with a pout pout face, so I spread the dreary wearies all over the place. Blub. Blub. Blub. Along comes a clam with a wide-winning grin and a pearl of advice for her pout to take in. Hey, Mr. Fish with your cross-town frown. Don't you think it's time to turn it upside down? Says the fish to his friend. My thought miss clam. I hear what you're saying, but it's just the way I am. I'm a pout pout fish with a pout pout face, so I spread the dreary wearies all over the place. Blub. Blub. Along comes a jellyfish he floats through the ocean, his tentacles all trailing in a gentle locomotion. Hey, Mr. Fish with your daily scaly scowl? I wish you wouldn't greet us with a grimace and a growl. Says the fish to his friend. Mr. Jelly, I agree. I'd like to be more friendly, but it isn't up to me. I'm a pout pout fish with a pout pout face, so I spread the dreary wearies all over the place. Blub. Blub. Along comes a squid, quite a slender squiggly sight. She is squirmy, she is squelchy, she is slightly impolite. Hey, Mr. Fish, you kaleidoscope of mope? How about a smile, a little joy, a little hope? Says the fish to his friend. Mrs. Squid, I would try, but I haven't any choice. Take a look and you'll see why. I'm a pout pout fish with a pout pout face, so I spread the dreary wearies all over the place. Blub. Blub. Along comes an octopus with eight great arms, covered on the underside with tiny sucker charms. Hey, Mr. Fish, let me tell it to you straight. Your hulky, bulky sulking is an unattractive trait. Says the fish to his friend. Mr. Eight might shum, with a mouth like mine I am destined to be glum. I'm a pout pout fish with a pout pout face, so I spread the dreary wearies all over the place. Blub. Blub. Blub. Now along comes a fish in a silent silver shimmer, the gang has never seen before this bright and brilliant swimmer. She approaches Mr. Fish, but instead of saying, hey, she plants a kiss upon his pout and then she swims away. Mr. Fish is most astounded, Mr. Fish is just a gassed. He is stone faced like a statue than he blinks and speaks at last. My friends. Says Mr. Fish. I should have known it all along. I thought that I was pouty, but it turns out I was wrong. I'm a kiss kiss fish with a kiss kiss face for spreading cherry cherries all over the place. So I'll smooch. Smooch. Smooch. Smooch. Smooch. The End.