Sushi
It was the first time Flip had ever been to Matt's place. It was a very inviting apartment building, old but well maintained, just a couple miles down the road from the coffee shop where they'd first met months ago. They'd met again several times since, exchanged e-mail addresses and then screen names, and become fast friends. And today, they were going to go out for lunch and see a movie together.
The otter found the correct door and knocked. It was a long moment before the sound of movement inside reached him and the door opened. The tall gray rabbit was smiling sheepishly.
"Flip, hi," he said. "Sorry, I got a call from work. There's something wrong with the website, and I've been trying to debug it. I'm sorry I didn't call; I thought I'd be done with it before you got here."
"Oh," Flip said, slightly disheartened. "Well, if it's a bad time, we can always reschedule."
"Well, I think I'm almost done," Matt said. "If you don't mind waiting a few minutes, we can still go today."
"Oh sure," Flip said agreeably. "I'm not in any real hurry."
Matt led Flip inside, and the otter was temporarily stunned speechless. The living room was spacious, tastefully furnished, and immaculately clean. But what really caught his attention was at the center of the far wall.
It was an aquarium.
It was the size of his bathtub and twice as deep. Swirls of colorful tropical fish weaved and danced through rays of mysterious light, dozens and dozens of them. Flip's jaw went slack, and he started to step toward it in a mesmerized daze.
"Make yourself comfortable," Matt offered. "I'll try to make it short."
"Sure," Flip said quietly, his mind elsewhere.
He'd been watching the fish for several minutes before he realized that his face and paws were leaving prints in the glass and he backed away, licking his whiskers absently. It was only natural for an otter, presented with such a beautiful school of exotic fishes around lunchtime, to start thinking the sorts of things he suddenly found himself thinking. But no, no! he told himself. Surely he was brought up better than that. A guest does not snack on his host's pets, end of discussion.
But no matter how firmly he chided himself, he couldn't take his eyes away from the fish. And after all, there was no harm in just looking, right?
He glanced down the hall where Matt had gone. He couldn't even guess which door he was behind. Whatever he was up to, it was taking an awfully long time.
He turned back to the awful temptation. He was beginning to feel that he would snap if he didn't allow himself some small concession. Short of actually eating Matt's fish, of course. What if... he opened the cover? Just to get a better look at them, nothing more. As soon as he did, the smell grew stronger -- that distinctive smell of healthy, populated water, the smell of childhood fishing trips. He closed his eyes and smelled dreamily.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself thinking about the size of the aperture in the tank cover. It was... wide. Invitingly so. He could fit his head into it. It occurred to him that it had been some time -- too long -- since he'd been properly underwater. Wouldn't it be a nicer view if he just leaned down for a peek?
Of course, the view inside the tank was absolutely breathtaking. A kaleidoscope of colors flowed all around him -- fragile, gossamer jewels that floated through the water as effortlessly and eerily as ghosts. He stayed down for several minutes, entranced by the ballet.
Suddenly, a fancy-looking black and white striped fish glided curiously toward his nose. His mouth snapped open and shut, and the fancy striped fish was sucked in by the resulting vacuum.
All at once, the spell was broken and he snapped to attention, hurrying to dry his face off with his shirt, trying to keep one eye on the hallway in case Matt finally returned. Luckily, there wasn't a whisker of the rabbit before he managed to right himself again. He stood with his back to the tank, practicing an innocent expression while he waited for his friend to return.
But the minutes ticked by. And still, Matt hadn't come out.
Flip found his eyes wandering back to the fish tank, and he licked his whiskers again. The school didn't look any different with one member missing. He told himself that Matt wouldn't even notice. It was just one fish in how many dozen? Five? Six?
Would he... miss another one?
Flip forced himself to turn his back to the tank again, trying as hard as he could to avoid the conclusion that there wasn't much difference between one missing fish and two. He turned sloooowly back to face the tank again. There was a bright red one floating lazily across the surface, it's mouth gulping monotonously.
A webbed paw flashed past, and another fish had vanished.
It was the same problem as sitting next to a candy dish. At first, maybe you take one or two just for the novelty of it; the candy's there and it's something to do. But once you have the taste in your mouth and your metabolism starts going, it doesn't take long before it occurs to you to have another. And each time you give in, it becomes easier to give in the next time. Spend too long in this loop, and you can find yourself turning from casual snacking to full-time grazing, just reflexively popping one candy after the next without really thinking about it. Then you start to become selective -- picking and choosing, isolating your favorites and prioritizing them. Then you start to play little games with them -- see how long you can suck on one before swallowing, or see what several candies taste like when you drop them in all at once.
Flip didn't realize how far down this road he'd gone until there was a sharp sound from the hallway, the groan of a door skimming across uneven tile as it opens. He looked up, his mouth full of fish, and was suddenly, sickeningly aware of what he'd been doing. He looked down at the tank and his eyes went wide with panic. The teeming school of floating shapes was worryingly sparse, with huge patches of bare water that weren't there before.
He hiccuped.
Before he had any idea what he was going to do, Matt appeared, smiling apologetically. "Sorry that took so long. I was going around and around trying everything." He glanced apprehensively at a clock on the wall. "We'll probably just have to get to a later show; I hope that's all right."
Flip swallowed hard, his face betraying his guilt. "Oh, oh sure. Yeah."
His cheeks turned red hot as Matt's eyes slipped past him to the fish tank, and the rabbit strode swiftly toward it. What would he say? What could he say? He'd replace them, of course, but can that ever really make up for eating your friend's beloved pets? His ears flipped back and he started to feel incredibly small.
Matt, non-plussed, snatched an angel fish from the tank and popped it in his mouth. "You like sushi?" he asked. "There's a nice place I was thinking we could go to before the show."
Flip gaped. It was a long time before he could answer.