Fried Fish Special: Spec-fic

Lukewarm, frothy beer was one of the worst things in the world, Sam figured, but it was better than facing ruby's glare just then so he tilted the bottle up to his lips, closed his eyes, and took a long swallow. He'd hoped that he'd have an answer to her question when he was done with the swallow, but his mind was still blank, though his stomach now grumbled at the quality of the froth he'd just fed it. "Well, now, Ruby," he said, "I don't reckon as it's quite as bad as you figure. I mean, sure, that suit did say that we couldn't do no more fishin' down in the Hole, but most people come here for you burgers anyhow. That fish was just kinda a bonus, so to speak. Don't fret about it none. You've got plenty else that's good on the menu." She huffed, put her hands on her hips, and inhaled, showing some of the other mighty fine assets that were on the menu for her select clientele. "Ya don't understand what I'm sayin', Sam," she told him. "It ain't just that I can't go fishin' there no more. The suit wanted a list--a list, mind ya--of all the people who'd eaten the gol-durn fish for the last three months." Sam frowned. "Ruby, that's damn near the whole town."


Inspiration: An empty beer bottle.
Story Potential: Medium-high. I wanna say high, but there's nothing unique enough about this on its own to make it really stand out, though I do have a decent idea of the characters already.
Finished Length: Short story.
Notes: Well, that fish did something mighty interesting to everybody who ate it. This is not a superfund site story. Question is, what?