“The Kraken stirs. And ten billion sushi dinners cry out for vengeance.” — Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, 1990
Sure, I can understand why actual sushi might bear ill will toward me and seek revenge for the wrongs I have committed against it and its fellow sushikind over the countless years I’ve murdered… er… dined upon it.
But to be bested by botany? Mere seaweed? It’s a travesty, I say! A travesty!
I was just chomping on a thin sheet of the delicious, green bounty from the sea when all of a sudden, it stuck to my lip and clung until I was forced to surrender a chunk in order to disengage from its very sticky clutches! Is this the sort of thing that happens to Static Stuff clad superheroes in Seattle? So it seems.
The last time I suffered this kind of wound, I was aged in the single digits and licking icicles in Iowa. Some lessons are learned the hard way.