There's an octopus in my sink.
Which echoes of the Twin Peak's line, "There's a fish in the percolator," but I'm not making this up, and I haven't watched too much Twin Peaks. There really is an octopus in my sink.
Clint, a guy I met last week, called me up. "I've been spear fishing and I can't eat all this fish...do you want it?" I say yes and half an hour later he's in my kitchen, skinning fish and cursing the dullness of my knives. He makes some sashimi and then leaves me to deal with the octopus, although he did first gut it and rub it with salt to get rid of the sliminess. Unlike the fish, one doesn't eat octopus raw. One first boils it until the translucent creature turns white and red. This I do and then dump it into the sink to cool. Poor thing. I can't bear eating it when it stares up at me like that. I nibble at its tentacles But, even though I like octopus, I just can't eat this one that I feel I know.
There's an octopus in my garbage pail. But don't tell Clint! Whatever happened to guys who brought girls chocolate and roses?
Posted by M Sinclair Stevens
June 18, 2002
Share Your Thoughts
He makes some sashimi and then leaves me to deal with the octopus.