squid.

squid.

squid are seen in the market. lying dead on fish stalls. wallowing in their own slime. supine. unmoving. as dead as any other dead thing on the planet.

the said squid, like most other squid, must’ve lived a fairly mundane squid life. wandering around, spurting ink, telling the lady-squid squid-enticing pickup lines and probably getting squid-slapped in the process. he probably lives in a squidapartment and probably drives a squidmobile with squidsubwoofers that plays kick-ass squid songs. most likely he goes to a squiddy little job, gets paid fairly and has no squid complaints whatsoever.

and now he’s dead. as dead as any dead squid could be.

dead. not breathing, not squiggling, not breathing, nor squiggling, just plain and simply DEAD.

and its ok with him.

i mean, who needs a squiddy apartment? who needs to be slapped around by squidgirls? who needs to be squidly forced into squiddy labor only to end up squiddly dead anyway?

get it over with right?

and here I am, judging the poor guy.

i judged him for his weakness. i did not even consider it being a case of some fisherman catching mister squid in a net. i didnt even imagine him being stranded in some sand bank during low tide. i didnt even entertain the notion that maybe he was just weak and helpless; that he was a victim of natural demise.

i just saw him as a case of suicide. like he wanted to get caught.

he probably even cried.

i bought the guy for dinner.

i mean, i’ll be having him for dinner.

not accurate enough? fine. i’ll EAT him for dinner.

and i bet he’ll be a savory dish. and i bet i’ll have my fill. and i bet i’d even save some for tomorrow.

i’ll be full. and happy.

and totally oblivious to his teary-eyed dead squid eyes.

disclaimer: this post has nothing to do with anybody i know, it is definitely not about you so please do not flatter yourself by thinking: “shet, this must’ve been written as a subtle message to me! im so hurt!”….this is simply about a SLIMY, DEAD, SQUID.