Jeff Wysaski
Honey, now I know you’re going to think this is a loaded question, but I want you to be honest with me: do these tentacles make my butt look big?
Now, I don’t want you to just say, “yes” because you think it’s what I want to hear. Yes, it was my choice to move into a home that’s located right next to the nuclear power plant. And yes, it was also my choice to drink the glowing river of sludge that oozed into our backyard.
But just because I can’t turn back the clock and undo this genetic mutation, that doesn’t mean you should pander to my emotions. I really want to look good for my high school reunion tonight. So if I need to find a different outfit that better accentuates my long, billowy appendages, just go ahead and tell me right now.
You know, I originally thought these tentacles were a godsend? I can finally reach the top shelf in the kitchen without having to ask you for help or pulling over a chair. And thanks to the suction cups, I hardly ever slip and fall in the shower anymore. Also, the flexibility of these tentacles makes pulling shellfish and other prey out of narrow crevices super easy.
But then, when I look in the mirror, I wonder if it was all worth it. Do I miss my feet? No, not really. But I’ll tell you one thing – those rigid sticks of skin and bone sure were easy to squeeze into a size 4 pair of jeans.
And you know what else? These ink stains are just the worst! I used to think my period was bad – but Lord, at least that only came around once a month. But now, thanks to these mutations, every day feels like a heavy flow day! I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m just wearing diapers!
Oh great, now I’m feeling self-conscious. Maybe we should just skip the reunion and stay home. I can sit in the fish tank and we can watch the deep-sea episode of Planet Earth. Remember how much you laughed when I kept getting confused and batting at the screen every time a fertile male octopus swam across the screen? See, that’s what I love about you, dear. You’re not the jealous type.
Or…if you’re feeling frisky, you could slip your hectocotylus into my mantle cavity and fertilize my eggs with spermataphores. Doesn’t that just sound so romantic? Plus, you know how much I’ve been wanting to spawn a clutch of larval babies lately.
Oh, but I want to see my old friends. I haven’t seen Pattie in years. You know, she used to make so much fun of my nose? “Rita the Big-Nosed Reindeer,” she used to call me. Well, isn’t she just going to be so jealous when she sees this perfectly formed octopus beak of mine?
So forget it! Who cares if my butt looks big? I bet everybody else gained 50 lbs., anyway. So come on honey, let’s get cracking. Put some linseed oil on those bat wings of yours and let’s get out of here. I want to get there early – I hear they’re serving shrimp cocktail.
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