Hertz
The boys were frisky when I got home so I gave them tuna. Actually, I had been planning on cooking some Trader Joe’s Mac-tuna and cheese for a week, but you’re always more motivated to cook for others, right? So, having boiled up the noodles with a splash of milk---I wanted to save most of it for my morning bran---I empty the canned albacore and packet contents into the saucepan. Then, pouring over the mini kitchen sink, I spilled the excess creamy, Cheeto’s-colored sauce down the drain to the marina two feet below. Multiple servings and a deep glass of red later, a creature of some mass bumped against the cabin’s port wall, causing me to nearly empty my wine, and it occurred to me that besides the cannibalistic aspect of feeding fish more fish, there might also be something ill-advised about getting these junkyard beasts ---raised in L.A. River run-off, playing among the sunken tires and missing persons---to associate me with food. Maybe dining on TJ’s mac-a-tuna and cheese and wine, they’ll evolve new tastes: Like for me, for instance.