Mollusk

Had an interesting day today. Since the Indian man I have been working with is going back to India on Friday, he and I were treated to lunch today. Me and the treater ate oysters, a small Japanese kind available now from a farm in Washington state. “Smooth, with a cucumber finish” is how the treater described them. “Like the taste you get in your mouth when you smell the sea, with a cucumber finish” is how I described them. Really, they were funky, like uni. Slippery. I chewed them because otherwise, what is the point of eating oysters? Obviously, the libido-enhancing qualities will serve only to frustrate me.

The Indian man was, it turns out, positively horrified by our choice of appetizer, because when we got back to the office he said “My god, McPolack, how could you eat those? They were alive! What if they are still alive now, in your stomach?” It was as if we were biting the heads off of live kittens at lunch. He was similarly horrified at the idea that my parents let me go hike in the woods all alone. In India, you could get eaten by a tiger. I told him we had mountain lions in this country, and that first, they eat your face, and then they raise one claw – plink! – and carve a circle around your torso, and eat your guts. Then, they bury the rest of you for later.

I think he is glad to be leaving.