If You Give Foxy a Fish Head…

I promise I know how to behave properly in public. I can keep my voice down. I practice good manners. I follow my own rules of swearing. I’ll only wrestle with you if I really love you.

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.

Nemo: …

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.

Nemo: …

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?

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