Picture the scene: It is a Saturday night. All of us have gotten together to drink away a tough week and leave it behind. Beer is flowing freely. People are doing Jagermeister shots. There is a game of quarters (aaah, quarters) going on with the single people in the corner of the room. The clock hits 1:55 AM and suddenly things are starting to get old. People are pulling back on their drinking, because they don’t want to spew. People are getting tired. People are starting to pass out.
And that’s where I come in. (With my bag of live, wriggling fish.)
Sure, there are people who can play piano like a child prodigy. Sure, there are people who can drink beer through their nose and make it come out their mouth. Sure, there are people who have double-jointed this or double-jointed that.
But a guy who shows up and eats live fish? No way.
Now, you’ve got some guy (ME) pulling a variety of fish out of a bag. All these fish were just whisked out of a big tank (which I bring with me and store in a back bedroom). There are salmon, catfish, lobsters, grupers, shark, whitefish, etc etc etc. Let’s just say there are so many types of fish that you could literally (in your drunken stupor) call out, “Duboulay’s Rainbowfish or it’s species name Melanotaenia duboulayi!” and then watch as my hand pulls it out of the water-proof (keeping carpet safe) rubber bag and lower it over my chomping teeth-filled mouth.
And then, I would eat it.
If you have had a night of debauchery and sex and drinking and flirting and laughing and joking and pushing and shoving and giggling and chaos and then some guy pulls a Melanotaenia duboulayi out of a rubber-coated bag and shoves a living, breathing, flopping fish into his mouth and bite by bite eats the entire thing — you are going to feel like you went to Vegas and paid to see a huge show, while never leaving that bean bag chair wherest you sit, belly full with poison (alcohol), legs wrapped around the person you hope to go home with.
Well, if you brought them to this party, and they got to see some crazy guy down a Melanotaenia duboulayi in 35 seconds flat!? Hell, you are IN baby. You are so in.
I would be the life of the party. I would be the guy that everyone would remember. There would be parties after this party where people would say, “Hey, remember that crazy guy who ate the live, flopping Melanotaenia? Man, that was wicked-cool!” There would be stories that people would tell to their children that some people would grow up thinking were simply fairy tales about the amazing fish eater when in fact, somewhere at that moment, fish-eater (ME) would be sitting somewhere living his life day by day.
It would be tough to be so entertaining. But like I always say — when there’s a flopping Craterocephalus Stercusmuscarium just waiting to be eaten and a tray full of jello shots, well, you step up and make history.
You save the jello shots for later.