But, dammit, if you put a fish head on my plate, I’m going to play with it. I can’t just eat around it like a civilized person and leave it alone. In true Foxy fashion, I’m going to turn it into dinner and a show.
I’m going to kiss it and name it Nemo.
I’m going to have existential conversations with it.
Me: Don’t despair, Nemo. You could have been a giant talking cockroach shunned by society. At least I love you.
And make bad puns with it.
Me: I swear I’m not angry with you, Nemo. I didn’t call for your head on a platter.
I’m going to make it sing, “Fish Heads.” (Sadly no video was captured of that moment.)
And I’m going to make it smoke a French fry and wear a crown made of its own tail.
Because it’s a FISH HEAD ON MY PLATE.
In related news, I’m also doing inappropriate things around the Internet this week:
- Admitting that wine and my vibrator are the only things that “spark joy.”
- Making everyday chores sound dirty.
- Eschewing my Back-to-School lists in favor of celebratory mimosas.
Read those essays if you haven’t already. And then chime in. What’s the most inappropriate thing you’ve done lately?