THING THING

From in front of the computer at the other side of the table: "That one is an animal with its arse up in the air. And that one is also an animal with its arse up in the air! And so is that!" The apartment mate was, apparently, scoping out the pins and brooches made by a jewelry company overseas. "And I can't even identify what that one is, you take a look!"

I got up and came over. "I think that's an octopus." "It can't be, those are mammalian feet!" Okay, then it's a thing thing.

"There ain't no such creature as a thing thing!"
"If you don't speak English, there sure is!"
In their world, there's a thing thing.


In consequence of which, and coupled with the strong caffeinated beverage I had just before bed, there were strange dreams. Probably shouldn't have had that third cup of milk tea.

What probably also didn't help was the bag of all natural crunchies I finished off, which tasted artificially flavoured. A miracle of modern junkfood. Cheesy-oniony. She couldn't stand them, and I couldn't help myself.

All night long I was pursued by a porcupine carrying a fish, who kept screaming "I want you to want more" and "you love fish, take the fish, TAKE IT!"
I do love fish. But not in my dreams.


And porcupines are not native to these parts. I've only seen them on youtube.
So I have to wonder what kind of fish that was, and was it edible?
Had he packed it on dry ice when he flew cross country?
Or had it sat in a hot cargo hold for six hours?
How do I prepare fermented fish?
And why is it slimy?



I think the next time I want fish from Tennessee I'll go online to search for a more reliable supplier than 'Spiny Cletus'. One that uses FedEx Second Day and enough dry ice to guarantee that it arrives absolutely fresh.




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