I've been watching Jaws all morning. He's a very lively fish, always on the move. I'm glad I have him but he kinda makes me sad.
Growing up there used to be a fish stool on the corner ever Sunday afternoon. I was dragged along as my parents choose their delicacies. I'd hide behind mum holding onto her pleated skirt whilst peeking a look at octopus tentacles packed in ice and boxes of crabs piled up and dying.
Back home I'd lay the table. It was the only occasion we ever ate together. My father would sit there slurping oysters with mum across from him sucking on jellied eels. That was sex for them. I’d sit in the middle with a single prawn on my plate, trying to bring it back to life. When I realized it wasn’t happening I’d tear it’s head off, pop its eyes and squeeze its slushy brains out. I don’t like prawns. They remind me of loneliness.