Only another 961 sleeps to go before the end of the world as we know it (which I'm almost certain Nostradamus probably did or did not predict in a series of indecipherable coded messages). I'm so excited and I just can't hide it. Not at the thought of dying a horrible death as the Earth smashes and grinds into, "Planet X" in a final, desperate bid to rid herself of the insanely itchy, human race; nuh uh. I'm excited about the list I've made. A list of things to do before we're obliterated. I'm about to lose control and I think I like it.
Capture and befriend a sea otter then enjoy fantastical adventures together!
Yip. A little sea otter buddy which I will call, "Bob". I know what you're thinking but it's actually relatively simple to capture a sea otter. Saw it on a documentary. Once you've located an area in which they like to float and bob (gerrit?) around in and whatever else sea otters do, you just chuck in various bits of rubbish you have handy (plastic bags, old fishing nets etc.) which does a surprisingly decent job of ensnaring the little cuties (that
otter do it!). Then all you have to do is wait patiently (while puffing on a big cigar, preferably handrolled in an Asian sweatshop).
Oh, if you plan on capturing your
own little otter friend, remember to make sure it doesn't die before you can release it into your loving, clutches. If you happen to discover one on the verge of death, probably best to, "put it to sleep" by humanely smashing it's adorable, furry, head against a rock, seven or eight times, just to be sure.
The befriending part should also prove simple enough. I mean, if I was all tangled up in a Tesco carrier bag, struggling for survival and some nice chap or chapette wandered by and set me free; they'd be my best friend for life and could stroke and tickle me without even having to ask. Are sea otters so different? I think not. Also, I'll be carrying a large supply of fish and sea urchins as well as a big stick. They love a wee sea urchin apparently (especially sea urchins laced with sedatives - don't make me use the stick, good otter, nice otter, baaad otter *thwack*). Job done. And now Bob and I are ready to embark on our fantastical adventures together!
At which point I'll be so obsessed with counting down to armageddon as to become deeply depressed at the thought of ceasing to exist and therefore unable to enjoy my fantastical adventures with Bob!
Bob and I will quickly drift apart until finally we go our seperate ways. Amicably of course. But when his back is turned, consumed with love, I'll cut him down! Then I'll skin him, cook him and eat him; devour my love. Rather that than live with the thought of dear, gentle, Bob facing that terrible day in 2012, alone when the world finally gives up.
With belly full, I don my warm, otter-skin, hat and matching scarf and trudge slowly off into the sunset. Playing a sad tune. On my xylophone. Fashioned from Bob's bones. It's what he would have wanted.
This post is dedicated to the completely imagined memory of Bob. The bestest little sea otter buddy I ever dreamed of one day maybe capturing, possibly beating with a stick and ultimately eating and wearing on my head.
Tough loving ya pal. xxx