Three Soles

I had three breaded soles in my fridge, uncooked. I wanted to give them to Max the dog.
But, I took them to a church service where each person ate a meal whilst listening to the sermon. The three soles remained uncooked and uneaten on my table. The bearded preacher eyed them up.
I then sat outside the church, on the pavement, smoking a Hoyo de Monterrey. The three soles sat in the middle of the road. A man walked over them.
I walked to a nearby sea loch, aware that the soles were not far away. I saw an ugly grey oil tanker approach under the radio control of the uniformed leader of the Burma National Army, who stood on a concrete pedestal out to sea. He headed the tanker ashore at top speed where it churned out of the water and over a low headland, cutting a swathe through some trees and into another sea loch. He then berthed the tanker at some toilets on a pier.
I then thought it was time to go home and headed up to where my Dad had parked the car, which nimbly changed from a Morris 8 into a Volvo 760 as I adjusted to the time period. Still wrong.
My Mum then phoned my mobile saying that I should be elsewhere.
The three soles watched all this with interest.