The Long Journey of the Prawns

Once there were 20 prawns caught in China. They were frozen and exported to Coles in Norwood where they were bought by Pliny and Nostradamus for their New Year's picnic the following day. So the prawns had to spend one more night in a fridge.

The prawns arrived at the picnic spot around half past one. Pliny and Nostradamus ate them one by one, first cracking off their heads and tails and peeling off their scales and squeezing out the yellow stuff whatever that is called. The prawns were consumed. But their heads and tails and scales and digestive tracts lay relaxing on a plate.

A seagull, several moorhens and a pointy headed pigeon were stalking nearby on the grass, which grows down to the Torrens pond near the railway bridge, a pleasant spot, with many trees. Nostradamus left the plate on the grass a few feet away. The seagull circled the plate 3 times and nipped at a prawn head. He took it away. He ate it. He returned. He ate several pieces of prawn, and was full. A large and elderly moorhen approached the plate and took a prawn tail. Ate it. The pointy headed pigeon walked up and down, looking at the trees.

Soon the plate was much depleted of prawn ends. Nostradamus tipped the rest onto the grass and poured another glass of wine for himself and one for Pliny. The river pond sparkled with a dull brown sparkle, a Chinese family fished under the willow tree on the other side, a giant fish leapt up, twisted and plopped back into the middle of the pond. Pliny and Nostradamus tried to remember the collective noun for ducks. They looked down at the pile of prawn bits. A thousand ants were ripping into it. It was disappearing, but there was an orange patina on the grass. Pliny thought about the long journey of the prawns.

The fish leapt again, joyfully.