The Last Octopus

I tried octopus once in Greece. We went to a really nice seafood restaurant, the kind of restaurant where parts of the fish are still on it when the meal comes out. You know like cooked fish with the head and tail still on it. Well, one of the dishes that was served was octopus tentacles. I thought it looked safe, so I cut me off a piece and ate it. On the way down one of the suction cups…well…sucked to the inside of my throat. So, there I am choking on this octopus tentacle, and I can’t get it to go up or down. That stupid suction cup just wouldn’t let go. I started to panic, and I broke into a sweat. I just knew I was going to have to be driven to the emergency room to have it removed. Chalk up yet another freak accident that happened to me in my lifetime. I started shoving all kinds of things down my throat in an attempt to dislodge it…bread, fish, shrimp, anything. I was too embarrassed to admit what was happening, but then again nobody was looking my way anyway. Most likely I would have just ended up turning blue before anyone noticed something was wrong. My manly pride told myself that even that was preferable to admitting that I had been outsmarted by an octopus suction cup. When it finally broke free, I gasped a huge breath and vowed then and there never to eat octopus again. Stupid suction cup.