Don’t think I don’t see you in there, looking so happy with yourself. Yeah, you think I’m inferior to you because I only have two arms and you have eight; you have three hearts as compared to my one; you have a hard beak, whereas I have no beak at all. But I’m here to tell you, octopus, that you can suck it.
Hey what’s your life span? Oh, yeah, five years, six tops? You know what that means? It means that I’ll be here long after you die, to dance on your stupid, watery octopus grave, you boneless freak.
Yeah, yeah, you can squeeze through very tight spaces. So can cockroaches, and you don’t see them swimming about in fancy tanks, sucking on the glass with their tentacles and acting like this whole scene is beneath them. So, I’ll say it again: you can suck it.
It says on this plaque that you eat mostly small fish and crustaceans. I could eat that stuff too, if I wanted, but I don’t. I eat cheeseburgers. Morning, noon and night--cheeseburgers. You probably don’t even know what a cheeseburger is, and frankly, that’s kind of sad. Sometimes I feel like I should pity, and not hate you, but then I look in there at your beady, condescending eyes.
You can squirt ink? Whoa, stop the fucking presses! This guy can squirt ink!
I’m being sarcastic, captain dick-arms. You think I’m impressed by your stupid ink squirting? Watch this: (spits tobacco juice at the octopus tank). Check, and mate. I bet you didn’t think I could squirt things, huh? I bet you thought you had the squirting-stuff market cornered. Shows what you know, shit for brains.
I wish you could escape this cage, so I could show everyone else at the aquarium what a shiftless fraud you are, but you’re too spineless. Get it? You really don’t have a spine!
No, but seriously, escape that cage and I’ll give you a red-ass beat-down. I’ll grab one or two of your arms and pummel you mercilessly with them, and then how silly will you look? All the other octopi will be in there ashamed, trying to pass themselves off as squid and whispering amongst themselves about what a disappointment you are. Which is probably why you’ll never come out here and face the music; because, aside from your beak and sucker-arms, and ink-squirting you have only your sense of self-importance to hide behind.
Oh, I’m on to your game octopus, and I’ll play along--for now.
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