So many scientific advancements within our community – aerodynamics, telepathy, medicine – and yet…
Larry meanders around the bowl, gliding past the pink neon mushroom and the cheap plastic scuba diver.
He’s hungry and can tell by the analogue clock on the wall that his worthless caretaker is already twenty minutes late. To think, he’s stuck in this glass prison while that idiot roams about on two legs, exercising free will.
Suddenly, the bowl becomes shrouded in darkness. Then, a snowfall of pungent flakes.
Larry samples one. Thursday is supposed to be krill; this is clearly salmon.
When will the indignity end?
The Weekday One Hundred 