The Chicken was offended by the slogan on the can of tuna and went to complain to the fish.
“How unjust it is that my name should be taken by your legless self, who knows nothing of the noble pleasures of worm-eating and fether-fluffing, and is instead content with pursuing an ignominious existence of swimming through water not unmixed with your own urine.”
“I agree the nomenclature is unjust but for a different reason. I believe you should be yclept the Tuna of the Land.”
The fish’s comment goaded the chicken to fury who tried, vainly to rend the tuna with his claws, but was prevented by his fear of water. Soon the ruckus attracted the Man who said “Ho ho my aquatic and terrestrial gentlemen! Let me take you to a place where disputes about Names do not matter for all is one!
The Tuna and Tuna of the Land were eager to experience this post-linguistic oneness and eagerly ran into the hands of the human who decapitated them, chopped up their flesh with mayo, and served them side-by-side at a buffet as “tuna salad sandwich” and “chicken salad sandwich”.
“We’re learning how similar we are under the skin” said the sandwiches.
“Bah.” said a bowl full of lettuce dressed with vinegar and oil.” “The name you share now is a false one as you two posers are not even salad”.
“Just wait” said the chicken-salad sandwich. “I trust the Man. He will give us our true name!”
And eight hours later the chicken and tuna became both indistinguishable and one, earning a new name now: the Log of the Lake.