Sunday Scribbling #145: Organic / Cinagro
“Morning full of bobble to you, Mr. Fish—and to all your forty-two little fishies.”
Mr. Fish was looking crabby: I hadn’t seen him this bereft since the advent of the Awkward Sneeze.
I’d been to early morning mass, sung my penance, and was full to the brim with goodwill and excess. You’re wondering what the latter has to do with goodwill: I can’t help you: my belly’s full of communal port: I’ve got it bad and that ain’t good, you know? Believe me, you don’t want me to go all George Bailey on you. I’ll just stick to the back story: angels in the belfry, angels in the parking lot down on 5th and Clime. Little angelfish at that.
Do fish sleep? Do they want to? Do their little fishy mamas have to keep fishy-barking at them to get into their organic cotton fishy-jammies and brush their fishy teeth and floss their fishy gums, and are those organic cotton fishy jammies blue fishy flannel or orange fishy flannel? Is Sendak their favorite organic fishy baby monster story or is it A Hole is to Dig? Can they even read down there in all their organic wet-fishy wet-fishiness?
Yes, 42. And, no, it doesn’t. Not in the least—or, not anymore. It used to, but then it got tired, very inorganic. Very tired: as tired (and inorganic) as Mr. Carmine Fish is crabby, and that’s before you even asked me what happened to Barnaby and Garson and all of yesterday’s oopsy doopsy folderol.
I just won’t have it. I won’t have it at all. It’s beyond fishy, it’s beyond poultry, beyond nectar, beyond all the entire collected works of Hula Kavula. It’s down to your very last organic cotton towel, but don’t panic. If all your options are blown, you know what to do: call Bob, Organic Bob, Bob of the difference between organic symmetry and long lost palmistry, Bob of the noodle in your soft dark—organic—place.
Mr. Fish was looking crabby: I hadn’t seen him this bereft since the advent of the Awkward Sneeze.
I’d been to early morning mass, sung my penance, and was full to the brim with goodwill and excess. You’re wondering what the latter has to do with goodwill: I can’t help you: my belly’s full of communal port: I’ve got it bad and that ain’t good, you know? Believe me, you don’t want me to go all George Bailey on you. I’ll just stick to the back story: angels in the belfry, angels in the parking lot down on 5th and Clime. Little angelfish at that.
Do fish sleep? Do they want to? Do their little fishy mamas have to keep fishy-barking at them to get into their organic cotton fishy-jammies and brush their fishy teeth and floss their fishy gums, and are those organic cotton fishy jammies blue fishy flannel or orange fishy flannel? Is Sendak their favorite organic fishy baby monster story or is it A Hole is to Dig? Can they even read down there in all their organic wet-fishy wet-fishiness?
Yes, 42. And, no, it doesn’t. Not in the least—or, not anymore. It used to, but then it got tired, very inorganic. Very tired: as tired (and inorganic) as Mr. Carmine Fish is crabby, and that’s before you even asked me what happened to Barnaby and Garson and all of yesterday’s oopsy doopsy folderol.
I just won’t have it. I won’t have it at all. It’s beyond fishy, it’s beyond poultry, beyond nectar, beyond all the entire collected works of Hula Kavula. It’s down to your very last organic cotton towel, but don’t panic. If all your options are blown, you know what to do: call Bob, Organic Bob, Bob of the difference between organic symmetry and long lost palmistry, Bob of the noodle in your soft dark—organic—place.
Labels: fish jam
posted by murat11 at 7:28 PM
20 Comments:
Woo - this is surreal!I'll never look at my goldfish Bob in the same way again.
rosey: And Bob will probably never look at you the same either, no? Thanks for your visit.
Stories are for reading, and this one was to make me laugh. Poor Mr. Fish and his 42 little fishies...
anno: They're not good for much else, are they? This came out of a prompt for my middlers, using a handful of words, no surprise, from The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. We're about to embark on reading the second book in the five book trilogy.
murat11~
I am stumbling for my response...
at first I was reading this as though it be a story for children, but then it did not seem that at all.
fish appear to sleep
that last line: Bob of the noodle in your soft dark—organic—place. It's got my attention.
Hey, let's call Bob and have him lead us over to the other side of the organic curtains--we'll nestle in the palm of the long-lost soothsayer and have her read our noodles.
Tammie: It was written while sitting with children, my take on the writing "prompt" I had just given them, but no, not entirely for children.
San: I'm sure Bob would oblige, and I know sooth would.
Now if Rosey comments it is surreal, it must be!
Setting about a routine
A Fishfest, a real fishy Fishfest comes to Muratville! Yes, I can imagine that. Ever since the discovery of scat-writin’ Mr. Ella, I’ve come to expect this exact kind of goodwill and excess. It is beyond fishy and all the other beyonds I’ve absconded with from this fishpond. As you say, I say to you, “Rave on, scat man!”
missalister
this is so very cute!
Ah, who would have known? This post is so very fun and giggly...
Yeah, wonderful, enjoyable stuff!
GT, you know me better than that: you don't need Rosey's word for it.
DOM: I like you -yond, -scond, pond rhymes there, and the fishfest was fun. I think we need to beware just how much scat gets in the water, though: don't want Carmine any more crabby than he already is...
Floreta, TW, and STG: Glad you all enjoyed the fishtale.
hahaahah "organic cotton fishy-jammies in blue fishy flannel" - that's just too good :)
DM: What other kind of fishy jammies are there?
Paschal: I've returned several times to read your piece and each time I found myself wandering, with pleasure, through the parts.
I'm left wondering...
Does the Awkward Sneeze have any long term effects ;)?
What would paschal going George Baily look like?
Will all the fishy questions EVER be answered?!
I wonder what handful of words you used as a prompt with your middlers and what their responses looked like?
Very Fun!
present: I'm glad you were inclined to wander. Best I can tell, the Awkward Sneeze only has long term effects on prompt responders (I just sneezed three times - make that four - as I am writing this); pmb going George Bailey probably looks more like Clarence in his nightshirt; fishy questions are more likely to be answered in the frozen cod section of Super S Foods (not known for their fresh fish, sadly: fish are just as disappointed by frozen answers as we are); my middlers and I had just watched The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, in prep for this week's reading of The Restaurant at the End of the Universe: hence, the prompt included: fish, 42, Hula bobblehead, towel, panic, and one or two other words that escape me now. Bob was, as he always is, optional. We like to keep him that way.
Post a Comment
<< Home