No, I wasn’t high. So what if I bought a four foot long stuffed Marlin pillow? It really did look cool on the web site, but when I took it out of the box, well here’s what happened:

It was around 7:30 pm when the doorbell rang.

“Don’t answer the door, it’s probably Jehovah’s Witnesses,’ I yelled.

Greg shot me a look and walked over to the front door to get a package handed to him from the Fed Ex guy. This was the gift I’d been waiting for. Earlier in the week, I spent a day obsessing over throw pillows. I just love how they make a couch even more inviting. Now that I’m “freelance”, which translates to a professional couch potato, I’ve found it necessary to accessorize my throne. I was sick of seeing the same old pedestrian Pottery Barn pillow. My intent was to think not just outside the box, but outside everything. Why not find a fish pillow? That would score some creative points, right?

Soon, everyone was going to want a fish pillow. I was planning to be coy, and when asked “where on earth did I find such a cool pillow?” I would shrug my shoulders and say something like, “Oh, my Mom brought this back from some  little place in the Hamptons. Some artist made it.”

“Your fish is here,” Greg said.

I ran to him and ripped the package out of his hand. “Oh, my God, I’m so excited! This is going to be so great! OMG … and now that our house is going to be featured in the bungalo walk, this is going to make the place look even better.”

I tore open the package and pulled out this gigantic, horrific, dead fucking fish.  The nose, or beak, or whatever  sagged to the floor. Greg said, “Jesus christ, that looks like a  big black dick.”

“This is TERRIBLE!” I said. I felt like I was holding a dirty diaper.

The fins were like fairy wings. This fish didn’t look like it could swim. The worst part was the eyes. They were like real dead fish eyes. I think they were a photograph of some poor dead Marlin. They were looking at me creepy … creepy. The fish was thinking, “Lady, you just bought me and methinks you a fool!”

“What the Hell. This is so not what was on the web site. THIS IS CRAP, ” I said.

Greg couldn’t stop laughing, “How much did you pay for it?” He asked.

“Twelve dollars,” I said.

“Oh well, it was cheap. Use it as a white elephant gift,” Greg suggested.

Then it dawned on me, I could have fun with my fish. We could go for drives in the country. I could bring him to bars, parties, picnics and vacations. My friends with kids would like my pillow. Or, maybe I could leave him on a beach?