One day at lunch an eyeball was staring up at me from one of the meatballs. They were fish meatballs, thank God, so it was only a fish’s eye, but still… There was no one around to dare me to eat it and no one who would have acted astounded if I had, so I didn’t particularly want to eat it. Since only Neene and I were eating at the bowl, I thought maybe if she turned away for a moment I could quickly pluck out the eyeball and fling it onto the ground somewhere.
No such luck.
And the meatball was clearly on my side of the bowl; it had even rolled into the little dip of my scooped-out rice, so there was no hope of subtly pushing it back into the middle. So: I ate it. With every bite I expected my teeth to sink into the eyeball’s soft squishiness, or for my mouth to become suddenly flooded with eyeball juices. Nope. Eating an eyeball is surprisingly uneventful.
No comments:
Post a Comment