I told Sigyn that, after her ordeal, I would take her to lunch anywhere she wanted. In hindsight, I can see that I should have predicted this…
We are back in the Big City to the West at the restaurant with the sushi-go-round. Which you are still forbidden to ride, by the way. No, no hopping on! Just choose what you want as it goes by. Pluck the plates deftly from the conveyor belt!. If there’s something you want that you don’t see, you can order it off the computer screen.
My beloved has opted to begin with veggies.
Veggies!? Honestly? I don’t know if she’s trying to be healthy or to get revenge… I don’t recall a cucumber among her assailants, but perhaps it is tainted by association.
No fried chicken this time. No, we are sampling the fried squidlets. Well, I am aware that they are squidlets. Sigyn thinks squid are “cute” and “talented”, so I have told her that this is just some very chewy tofu tempura.
<Gnang, gnang, gnang.> Very chewy tofu tempura.
Bleargh! What is this? Theoretically, it is tuna of some sort.
I’m not so sure. I think someone better check the kitchen for an open can of Fancy Feast.
The Norns smile upon us! We diners have consumed enough to merit a prize ball! This one is a mysterious solid orange. There could be anything in there…
It’s a tiny pad of sticky-notes.
These will come in handy for leaving the human female snarky messages in all sorts of little hidey spots.
Sigyn is more enchanted with the ball itself and is hoping for some snow soon so she can go sledding.
Snow. In August. In Texas. Um…
You may be wondering whether the human female suffered at all on the Day the Flora Rose Up For Revenge. I am saddened to relate that she did not. Even though the entire incident could be traced back to her and blame laid squarely on her doorstep, she appears to have gotten off Manx free. (Welsh free? Or was that Irish free? One of of those lucky Celtic races, anyhow.)
No, there was nothing in the whole affair to chastise, vex, thwart, or otherwise discommode her, aside from giving her a phobia of daisies. I think she should be made to suffer at least a little, don’t you?
She has talked of nothing except beany-goo-stuffed, fish-shaped waffles since the last time we were here. She has been telling everyone that she is going to eat one all by herself today, gills to caudal fin, nom nom nom. She has been so tiresome about it that I have worked a little mischief on the kitchen such that taiyaki is not even on the menu today! Nope! She has scrolled through all the screens twice and it is conspicuously, pisciviously absent. How ’bout them guppies?
She is consoling herself with an egg custard tart. Sigyn and i have sampled these in Chinese eateries.
She says this one is better. “Better crust and less eggy.” The human female seems to be enjoying every morsel.
I shall have to try harder…