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Rendezvous With Rockfish

“We’re quite proud of our latest habitat,” intercoursed Sapprodyx6-2-di+10032.45 to his companion, “modelled after their largest hives.”   The companion chuffled a resplendent blorg in agreement.

“Left in this environment, the females can live to 205 of their star years,”  continued Sapprodyx6-2-di+10032.46 as he readied his siphon over the eating plinth.  “Over two-hundred disease-free and commercially productive years!” 

With his mid-limbed fingerets deftly holding down the writhing creature, Sapprodyx6-2-di+10032.73 slowly and carefully increased suction to flay the hapless creature so as to maximize the bleed.  While Ramans might do everything in threes, Arcturians love their human meat naturally saucy.

The companion was suitably impressed by the conservation effort.  He b’sqounked his balong with a warm gush.  Just think —Grade Alpha flesh no more than two way stations from the Interloper Cluster! 


It still creeps me out.  Whether it’s a halibut entrée during a formal sit-down dinner among the exhibits and tanks, or scarfing down fish and chips at the outdoor concession, eating seafood at an aquarium strikes me as a little perverse.

Not only did we not order fish during our visit to the Vancouver Aquarium this Saturday, we skipped lunch altogether.  $9.75 for a hot dog, bag of chips, and a can of pop is borderline criminal.  We held out for sushi in Richmond.  The irony does not escape me.

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