I bought cod and raw shrimp for ceviche recently . I think I paid about six dollars a pound . Maybe . Five ninety-nine , or something like that , as I remember . I could be wrong because I’m not a very good shopper and I don’t know prices.
My friend Bill bought a little fish yesterday for $ 45 . It couldn’t have weighed more than about a pound . Coy .
Funny , but back in college my roommates and I bought fish because it was cheaper than beef . Turbot was the cheapest . Turbot — whatever that is . It tasted good . Now , of course , fish ain’t cheap . And you gots to worry about sustainability issues , and health issues , and farmed -or -wild questions ………..
Bill now has six or seven fish swimming around at the bottom of his swimming pool . He likes to watch them , especially in the moonlight . The new one , the $45 one , is platinum . Not silver ; not white . Platinum . I’ve never before seen a platinum fish . Neither has Bill , and that’s saying something .
But , ” Come June , ” I asked , ” what will you do with them ? ” Come May or June Bill would be swimming , I assumed . I had a couple of silly suggestions for him . ” Do you have a plan ? ” I asked , for the future of the pool . To make a long story short , no , he didn’t have a plan. He pretended to , started some doubletalk ; but then gave up . No plan .
” I don’t mind swimming with the fishes ,” he said . It had overtones of Italian mafia , but he didn’t mean it like that . IOW ( in other words ) , Bill didn’t have a plan . So far , so fish ! And they can live fifty years , he told me . Bill knows fishes .
” Don’t be koi with me , ” I said. ( No , I didn’t ) .
Bill’s the guy who cared for a wild baby parrot for a few weeks , syringe feeding it , at first , skillfully nursing it back to health , until the parents came and got it at some point . That’s what Bill said . The parrot parents came for their baby and the fledgling flew off with them . Not even a ‘thank you’.
Now that I’m thinking about it , I’ll have to ask Bill what happened to the two turtles that he had in the pool a few months ago . Maybe the raccoons finally got them . The raccoons come around at night and watch the fish , hoping for a delicious meal , but the fish stay quiet and still down at the bottom of the deep end . “They actually sleep ,” Bill said . How he knows that I’m not quite sure . I asked if they snore and , of course , Bill denied that ; but he said they fart and knows that because he sees the bubbles sometimes .
Bill’s no spring chicken , either , and so I told him that he better decide who inherits the coy when he dies . They live fifty years . He agreed . I didn’t mean to complicate his life further . Life is full of complications .