Thispanagain?
“No. Show me.” There are human establishments that serve food. I’ve tried looking, but there’s no way for me to see how they do it without arousing suspicion or killing more people than necessary.
“Like—like a video?”
I nod. I’ve heard humans talk aboutvideosbefore. It’s not a word I have been able to translate into my language.
“Okay, okay. Yeah. A video. Yea—” He reaches into his pocket and holds his hands up to stop me from slamming him into the wall again. “Woah, woah, woah. I’m just taking my phone out. Chill.”
Phone.A sound? Voice? What is that?
The tourist reaches into his pocket, and I frown. I do not understand how the small rectangular box helps. I’ve seen many, many humans hold something like that—more so recently. They sometimes hold it up to their ear or stick wires into it. I’ve never cared to look closer. Maybe Cindi has one of thesephonethings? Will she be happy if I give her one?
The male’s hands shake as he taps the black box. Light suddenly flashes, and a still dog appears on it. A photo, I believe the humans call it. I’ve seen many on paper around themainland. It is far superior to the paintings and art we have at the palace. It’s like magic in the way it glows.
My eyes widen as the images on the box change with every flick of his fingers.
Maybe I will also get myself a…phone. It may be useful.
“YouTube good?”
I nod. I don’t know what that is either.
I release his neck to stand beside him to better see this…phone. He taps on a square, then symbols appear on the screen.
I never learned how to read English, but Mother insisted we learn the native language of the humans on the mainland. Admittedly, it’s been many years since I’ve attempted to read anything, and I’m finding it difficult to recall the phonetics for the tourist’s language.
Several images of human food pop onto the box. He clicks on the one with a snapper, and the picture begins to move. A male’s voice filters through the device.
Fascinating.
I will gift a phone to Cindi. My mate can watch the moving photos too, if she wishes.
My full concentration is on the device as the male talks through scraping off the scales of a fish, gutting it, then what they callfilletingit.
“You do not like the bones?” I confirm with my prey.
“Uh…yeah?”
I nod. I understand. The scales are sharp, and the bones sometimes get stuck between my teeth. Cindi should never experience that.
I continue watching the human on the device clean the fish, then tap it dry. The male sprinkles salt and pepper—I will search for this—on both sides before pouring oil—I will add this to the list as well—on a flat silver item with curved sides.
Is that what that is called? A pan? Cindi packed something similar, except it had rounded edges that looked more like a bowl.
Now that I really think about it, I think I saw one in that shape but much smaller, in black. She was running around the house throwing things into bags, taking it out again, putting it back in, swapping it out for another item. I did my best to catalogue every item she was interested in bringing, but my efforts were mainly spent moving around to cushion her as she inevitably stumbled. I lost count of how many times she would’ve hit the edge of a table if my tentacle hadn’t been there.
I’m curious to see how the fish tastes when it’s prepared in such a way.
“That.” I point at the metal thing the pan is on. The box goes weird when I touch it.
Wait. Yes.
The humans burn their food first. On fire. How did I forget?
I paid attention to where the humans were and where their attention was locked onto, but never much more than that.
I never cared to know how the humans lived beyond the trivial matters of where they congregate or the words coming out of their mouths. Had I known my mate would be human, I would’ve begun learning their customs years ago.
