Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Fish And Yogurt

There's a little fish in that pond, about four inches long. Silver, with a forked tail.

"Do you see that?" I ask Gloria. I point to the small fish, who is currently swimming in a sea of similarly-sized orange koi fish.

"Yes," she says. "He's the only one."

"That's a freshwater tuna," I say.

"Tuna can be that small?" she asks.

"Sure, when they're babies," I say. "Freshwater tuna are very rare, though. See the forked tail?"


"Forked tails are for speed," I say. "Fish with forked tails are much faster swimmers."

"I didn't know that," she says.

We stay on the railing for a few seconds, looking at the fish.

"You realize that when we get home, I can tell Eli I convinced you that freshwater tuna exist," I say.

"What? Arghhhh!" She laughs. "You can sound so convincing," she says. "I have to remind myself that you can never be trusted."

"A sound strategy," I say.

We walk over to a yogurt shop located near the freswater tuna pond. It's very mod, this little yogurt shop, and as I start to look at the flavors, something catches my eye.

I try a sample. My head spins.

"Every time I think we've stopped progressing as a society," I say, "something happens to remind me that we're still moving upward."

"Why is that?" she asks.

"Cake batter yogurt," I say. "It's like somebody poured sugar into a vat full of sugar. And it tastes just like cake batter."

A miracle, really.

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