Froggy the Fishman wiped the guts and blood on his white apron before he pulled the pocket-size Bible from his rubber boot. He flipped to his favorite passage, used a slimy finger as a bookmark and trudged out of the market, anxious to be sitting in the sun on the small patch of grass in the back. The other vendors snickered and made remarks to one another, just loud enough for him to hear. He let the Bible thump against his leg as he walked past their stalls.
Let 'em laugh, let 'em laugh. Cretins, all of them. They have no idea what's coming.
Emerging from the belly of the market, the sun scorched his eyes. He stumbled toward the only grass within fifty miles of the harbor and flopped down. As he situated his rubber boots beneath his body, he noticed a ladybug traveling up the stem of a scrubby dandelion.
He plucked it off the weed and held it to his eyes.
See this. This is why I believe. Who else but God could create something this intricate and powerful.
He set the ladybug back onto the dandelion.
Cretins, all of them. They will believe.
He turned to Revelations and read his favorite passage as if it was water to a man dying of thirst.