Sunday What's THAT Doing There?
Victor by now is used to a bit of strangeness with his tea. After all, the tea table he frequents practically runs on strangeness. But this -- this is unusual even for this group. He stares at it from his position at the head of the table, standing behind the chair. Why would anyone think this belonged on a tea table? What is it doing there? Is he supposed to ignore it?
But ignoring it is impossible. He clears his throat. "Do pardon me," he says to the group in general. "But -- why, exactly, is there a small aquarium in the middle of the table?"
The damn thing doesn't even have fish in it. Just a few odd-looking blobs. (Yet, despite that, there's a canister of food next to the square container, which is even more baffling.)
But ignoring it is impossible. He clears his throat. "Do pardon me," he says to the group in general. "But -- why, exactly, is there a small aquarium in the middle of the table?"
The damn thing doesn't even have fish in it. Just a few odd-looking blobs. (Yet, despite that, there's a canister of food next to the square container, which is even more baffling.)