From: rodhugen
Date: Mon Sep  1 11:47:38 MST 2003
Subject: Fish Crackers

FISH CRACKERS Rodney J. Hugen Cheese crackers in the shape of small fish become metaphors for lies told then carefully boxed and sealed until they are ripped open and scattered by two year old hands. In those first flailing moments some are swallowed, some crushed some shared with grimy paws and some are placed in the bowl at church so we can pretend to others that we've made an offering and are truly distressed about our depravity The little fish are long forgotten at twelve, though tasted again at twenty when there is nothing in the cupboard to eat except some moldy tortillas and a rusted can of Campbell's tomato soup. At thirty one we teach our kids to love them and watch as they eat them box and all. At thirty seven nostalgia sets in and we remember the morsels with a bit of remorse and try to re-create that moment when the Koolaid was good and orange and had one too many scoops of sugar. At forty five the crackers no longer taste the same and we worry more about the crumbs in the carpet than the gold fish still hooked in our hands. We are too busy at fifty and too smart at sixty to concern ourselves with such childish things but at seventy or by reason of strength eighty, we finally finish off the box and discover that they never interfered with the Good Doctor's orders because he sent them to Pepperidge Farms to be pulverized and reformed into a golden icthus.

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