Astronaut Ocopus

Drip

Squid ate and then slept all day. It would not make a good emotional support animal since owners usually take on their personalities. There were at least four in addition to hallucinating his dead wife who had risen without yeast and smelt of bread. He had to get out of the house and call a support before he did something he didn't want. He was running on fumes slowing to a California stop and had to walk the last mile wishing for youth when he fell asleep coming home late at night when he slept with his dad carrying him inside. Scott let his mind wander, not necessarily lost. Maggpipe was working on splicing stem cells. Offering Scott a cup of tea five bags in a pot reading the leaves he was going to win the lottery. Not wanting to drink he put it off to let cool. Dunking the bag it had a taste of dishwater. They were made by hand with a napkin. Licking the seal vulgarly was okay in the privacy of home. He had to take a chemical shower to heal low degree burns and began to cry running up the utility bill. The estate had its own zip code and there was a lot of room for development. Squid were superior in body and mind but not would take it if they could. At first they would target humans but then every living species inhabiting the turf of Earth. Conscious to the point of understanding how violent and disgusting. They live a meaningless existence without malignant malingering. The world is their oyster and won't go away or don't share. Catching a big wave on a skateboard the scientific name for the species had interesting origins in etymology. Not a good idea to chew a mouthful trying to spit it out. Their brain is so far ahead we can scarcely hope to compute even with technology that can only be understood by calling it magic. Stretching animals hide for an ear drum the creatures of the deep at least their appendages weren't like medusas hydra hair. The birth of squid wasn't an accident nor was it easy despite their best efforts Tilda would stroke his ego and he didn't give up so here was the fruits of his labor. The servants withdrew their barracks officially known as quarters. Replenishing the boiling cauldron it had as much flavor as the dirty coffee pot. They didn't know his circumstance and were taught not to ask questions for safety reasons. Maggpipe was in his office looking at a spreadsheet living the dream. "Is later a better time to talk?" After a knock. "Not at all, please come in. I'd rather meet in person than satellite my red blood cells get lonely carrying messages to the white ones. I will work my fingers to the bone if nobody reminds me to take a break. Where is your brother?" "His wife is nagging him about never being at home." Maggpipe took a book which had the title Headline Engineering down the spine. The laboratory passage swung open where eggs were roosting. There was a change in vital readings spiking seismic tremors. Responding to the ambiance, classical was playing and Scott had to have a drink. Prolonging the time before hatching without increasing size was difficult. Increases in aggression could make them fight amongst themselves to establish dominance. Being in captivity brought violent tendencies and sedating drugs were interfering with treatment. Tricking them to spread squid seed competitively would keep numbers to a minimum. Clustering like zebra mussels Scotts dream may be a premonition and Earth would be a ball of squid, a trap for an oligarchy of souls passing with the final thought of being supreme. Scott gave a gulp and began to cough. The drink was at his service. A scattering of vials containing enzymes were laid out and he put a few drops in the tank. The squid the blotter hit made the others hiss away. It wasn't humane but imperative. To fix the pollution from dumping the mixture Maggpipe would start a soap plant and let industrial runoff into the water. As a businessman and con artist he had to find a delicate balance between wanting to sell out and keeping creative control. How could a cherry curl like Scott outperform professionals? He would need genetic engineering but the price of medical insurance was through the roof. He was gonna cook up squid like lent and eat during passover.

Maggpipe would send for Scott when he had further use for him until then he could await further instructions. The master's diary was open in elegant cursive so good whatever it said couldn't take away from that. "Would sir care for a morsel?" The servant stirring soup made an inquiry. Ignoring the prompt to eat he could starve himself, fasting was cool with all the additives in food. Pouring bourbon he drank on an empty stomach. He put it on rocks making a fine stone soup. Touching it to his lips with etiquette though alone his critique was that of a connoisseur. Racking billiards he broke envisioning the balls all going into a pocket. None did and he felt grateful this game of pool was not chalk full of squids. Playing the angels queuing the ball with the cue he was a straight shooter. Calling Justin on the satellite he was drunk and nobody would know unless he made efforts to prove otherwise. "Hey bro I forgot to say it today but I love you." "It's not even noon." "I woke up, had a few shots and was trying to eat a burrito but had an episode. I should have given you a call at the first sign of trouble. Maggpipe would rather hang out with his lab equipment than me. I don't need closure on Tilda, just a little drink. Don't be a straight edge like a razor you long hair hippy." "Goes the guy who thinks sexual liberation is a toolbox. Could cure cancer but that would be more work than whittling a wooden skin flute or learning funbag pipes." "Seriously though I burnt my house down today, destruction being its own form of creation I'm going to cut down some trees to build another. Squid is too evil to be kept alive and we must fight fire with fire. I heard Tilda's voice crying for our dead child and that soon everything else will follow. Maggpipe is a friend in an uncomfortably high place like big brother and I can't talk to him often. How's Marissa, she let you back in from the doghouse yet, no double dates for a while." "We can talk about other things than wives."