Thanksgiving was a couple of days ago. My family is one of those that gather together at grandma’s place for a massive socially challenging feast. There is chaos in the kitchen, as much booze available for consumption as courses on the table, and that table is practically a mile long because everyone brings an additional someone who doesn’t have anywhere else to go (which is kinda nice). If you’ve ever seen Christmas Vacation, you’re familiar with the format.
Like any mother, I bring my child to all of our family gatherings. As my baby is a robot, this was strange to everyone at first, but three years of events later, NoodleFeet’s presence has been normalized as part of the family tapestry.
While at grandmother’s last week, Noodle perched in the corner of the room to stay safely away from the fourteen people stomping around the house.
Within his view was the traditional Thanksgiving hors d’oeuvre platter of radishes, carrots, mutant pickles and olives. Noodle quite literally stared them down all night…
To Noodle, nibbles are perfectly scaled tasting shapes, so he was disappointed that no one offered him a sampling. Since all he could do was gaze longingly in their direction, he became curious about the red piece inside the olive.
What were these shy pieces poking out? They looked so much like a part of his own anatomy, it was uncanny.
Noodle wondered: did the olives have a retractable toe like him? Or was the olive maybe a tiny womb where toes are grown…
Was this where his toes came from?
Maybe somewhere there were fields of little green growing chambers, each bearing a tiny developing pimentoe; a toe farm. He imagined hundreds of brine-filled sacks synthesizing infant toes within their supple flesh; the ground caked with those which had grown to maturity and pushed free of their fleshy sheaths through the exit hole… The implications were devastating.
What if every olive consumed by cousin Kevin was a potential toe that would never get to grip or knead the pliant texture of lint?
And we wonder why machines will overthrow humanity…
save the pimentoes.
Be the first to comment