How dishes of squid is a squid? I eat them all the time now. They must catch them in nets by the ton, just a net of tentacles hiding beaks and eyes like ours. Tentacles in the soup, pointy heads covered in sauce. They boil their brains to thicken everything. In South Korea we eat everything but those haunted-man's eyes.
I've seen them still alive. They have ten tentacles; eight of similar length and two longer lined with suckers or barbed hooks. The first set stand for the seven deadly that both species share, the eighth is for the squid-specific sin: lacking a skeleton. The two longer tentacles stand for humanities redemptions, Love and Unity and they use them to tear us apart. Also, squids squirt ink.
I've tried to eat them with satisfaction, to shred their arms in an act of defiance of their sub-marine tyranny. But they're so durable and revolting. And each bite I take gives another piece to the thing that must be assembling in my stomach. Tentacles and pointy heads and brains assembling themselves back into the monster that wasn't dragged from the deep, but gleefully met the knife for this very purpose. Whole save for the eyes, it will blindly squeeze and pop everything until it can clamber up, sucker over sucker through my chest and into my throat and then tips of tentacles poking through my nose for leverage it will slop out my broken jaw and...
They're made from sold souls you know. That's why their eyes are like that. Every mother who left their baby in a dumpster, every man who didn't honour his daughter, anyone who wanted to play really good harmonica in the 40's. They're all squid. And they'll kill you.
But my stomach is rumbling. I must go feed it.
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