The beer was well-received.
So I get a phone call at about 8:00 in the evening. It's Windy and I swear to the gods it sounds like she says, "I just impulse-bought a four-foot long, sixty-two dollar fish!"
"Ha ha!" I reply, and write it down in the quote book as I laugh. "I wonder what she really said," I think to myself, "because although it sounded like she said that she'd just impulse-bought a four-foot long, sixty-two dollar fish, I'm certain that I just misheard."
Well... once again I underestimated the ambient strangeness of the universe. She did, indeed, buy a four-foot long, sixty-two dollar fish. She bought a barracuda! A dead one! I came over right away to see this creature. And her fish. I brought a tin pail and paused on her doorstep to fill the pail with a one and 2/3 frosty liters of Olde English 800 Steel Reserve. Then I knocked on the door and went in.
The beer was well-received.
After the beer had been enjoyed and the full skanky-ness of its aroma had been savored, it was time for
the unveiling of the fish
The fish was unwrapped...
and displayed, in all its glory.
There was a brief power struggle,
but they quickly acknowledged their similarities and pledged to resolve their differences, peaceably. They lived happily ever after.
THE END
Well, not quite the end. The end of the fish, yes. But not the end of the story. After the photos of Windy and the fish, we went down into the basement and rummaged up some glass ampules and test tubes. Then, Windy cut out a portion of its gills and gave them a good solid squeeze. She and I caught blood in the ampules while Sweetie-Mark took photos and gave alternate exclamations of photographic glee and biological disgust. Blood ran picturesquely down Windy's hand and forearm. While several blood-catching photos were taken, this one is my favorite. Cheers!
YOU CANNOT ESCAPE THE BLOODY FIST OF DOOOOOOOOOOM!
An eyeball went into one bottle of vodka. Another eyeball went into another bottle of vodka. The tongue went into a third bottle of vodka. The fish was filleted. I took some of the fish home and smoked it with a combination of hickory and alder. The smoked barracuda was sent hither and thither to select personages of merit. Windy ate some fresh, with lemon and butter. I'm sure she did something specific with the skull, but I couldn't tell you quite what. I've got a tube of 'cuda blood in my fridge. I think she got her money's worth out of this particular fish.
a little barracuda-blood warpaint on the cheeks adds a coquettish flair to any soldier's ensemble...