My suckerfish, (allegedly) properly known as a plecostomus, was not impressed that I was cleaning the tank this morning. If a person wanted to be picky, that person could suggest that the suckerfish had not quite been doing his job because if he had, there would be no need for said person to scrape the sides of the tank.
I dared not scrape too close to where he had sucked on but it mattered not. He stayed right there, stuck to the lower north side. Over the past month or so, he has developed a taste for fish flakes; he stays near the top west side in the morning and when I sprinkle them in, he dislodges and floats upside down, sucking as much as he can from the surface of the water. It is fascinating to watch, yet creepy all at the same time. He is, in my imaginings, a finned leach.
But I digress, which is actually the point. Stick with me (see what I did there? Snicker.) for a minute.
There is a tug of war going on over in The Kingdom.
Pick your side: Coca Cola or Pepsi …
I had planned to settle with my popcorn (did you know that the Boy Scouts sell a most fabulous microwave popcorn? The Ultimate Butter is, as noted by the young man who sold me the small batch I purchased last week from his table in front of my grocery, very much like movie theatre popcorn) in the Peanut Gallery section and watch as the Jester orchestrated a battle of titans over this age old conundrum.
But what had happened was, in a side conversation with the Jester, I mentioned I had an interesting story about these two sugary bubbly beverages, and he wanted to know of it.
A writer should never allude to an interesting story to another writer and expect to stay in the Peanut Gallery.
However, the problem comes when the writer who opened her piehole and suggested she had an interesting story about sugary bubbly beverages is the same writer who just this morning was grinning triumphantly over 1) her freshly scraped fishtank and its updated filters and 2) the revived spinny thing that she uses to water her lawn.
In other words, what she probably should have said to the Jester was that she had a story about the aforementioned sugary bubbly beverages that she could tell in an interesting way. Because anyone who takes satisfaction in the affairs of suckerfish and spinny lawn watering hose ends is obviously not the holder of interesting tales.
Despite probably knowing this harsh truth, the Jester wanted to know the story.
So leave us rewind a century or two to when your humble Cave Mistress was a girl. What had happened was, she and her mum had gone to the local grocery; outside was a taste test — could you tell which beverage was which sort of affair. The girl told her mother that she would be able to tell the difference but not believing her, ‘They taste the same,’ Mom had said, much to the disgruntling of the girl.
‘I will try it when we come out,’ she announced as her mum snickered.
They finished the shopping and with a determined swagger to her step, the girl marched to the table and demanded to be part of the taste test. She sipped from one cup and then the other. With a knowing glance at her mum, she pointed to one of the cups. ‘I like that one best and it is Coca Cola,’ she told the attendant.
With a bored blush (which suggested this was not the first time the ‘customer’ had made such a revelation), he turned the placard around. ‘You picked Coke,’ he announced.
The girl’s mother pulled her away from the table by her shirt sleeve. ‘Why did you do that?’ she hissed. ‘You embarrassed that young man!’
‘I told you I could tell the difference. And Coke will always be better than Pepsi.’
Her mother was flustered. ‘But the taste test was sponsored by Pepsi.’
The girl shrugged. ‘Too bad for them.’
And there you have it, a not-so-interesting story of how I (again? still?) embarrassed my mother by picking the best sugary bubbly beverage like I said I would.
Which is your fav? Coke or Pepsi?
Be sure to click the link above in the post and join in the tug of war. If the Jester deems my story as not as droll as it probably is to anyone other than the Crazy Cat Lady on your block (and for the record, I only have one cat), he may let me participate in the actual tug of war rather than banish me to the rear of the Peanut Gallery.
I just hope I get to finish my popcorn.