We were all waiting for something that day. Everyone was glancing at their watches, their cell phones, the clock on the office wall. Everywhere people were shifting in their seats, looking up at the slightest noise, checking their makeup and hair.
11:30 am, EVERYWHERE:
Pink light suffused the world. Streaming in through the windows of the tallest skyscrapers and the smallest huts. Buildings without windows through which the pink light could stream were quickly abandoned by their inhabitants who had all secretly thought that windowless buildings were a pretty stupid idea in the first place.
11:35 am, THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE WORLD AT ONCE:
A salmony, slightly pink and smoky voice thundered throughout our midst. "I am Salmon, I think cats are great, except when they fight...that's just not cool guys."
People looked at each other and nodded. All humanity was united in our confusion. Why would a salmon not like cat fighting? Why would a salmon sound smoky when it was alive? Would we ever have enough eggs to make this monstrous wise-fish into the greatest Benedict known to man? All humanity wondered if it should have maybe not done so much drugs in the sixties.
11:40 am, ON THIS PLANET:
The SALMON spoke again:
"I see that you are confused."
We nodded.
"My voice is smoky because I spent my last summer swimming the oceans of the sun."
We ooohed.
"And the cat thing, well mostly it's because they always scare the crap out of me when they start fighting at three in the morning."
We closed our eyes and did that tiny head nod thing the people do when they really agree with something and want you to know it. Though if everyone in a room agreed with something that much, then no one else would know, since they all have their eyes closed. I once suggested the one-eye-half-open tiny head nod as a compromise, but I agreed with myself too much to remember my own advice and never knew if anyone else thought it was a good idea.
"The eggs? Hmmm, tough one. Maybe Eggulon-8, that place has quite a few eggs, enough even to make a decent Eggs Benedict with Smoked Galatic Salmon."
'Eggulon-8?', we thought. 'Where the crap's that?'
11:50 am, THIS ISLAND EARTH:
Somehow, in the space of four minutes, we killed THE GALACTIC SALMON, managed to make an order to Eggulon-8 and build a space frying pan. We feasted and then got back to Taking Care of Business (Thenceforth known simply as TCB).
Each salmon day, we now give each other a salmon. To remember the great salmon that we ate without really considering the possible consequences.
The end.
(A note: this was written in reaction to Lindsay's most recent post about Salmon day, I thought maybe some back-story could help flesh out the myth.)
gday cousin josh
its cousin ben. i was lookin around your blog for a place to leave a msg or an email address or something but in the end i had to sign up with this weblog thing so i could comment on something...ive forgotten what. So if you see this commetn, you could tell me where i'm supposed to leave such messages because i do have something more important to say, namely a message from my non internet savvy mother
So it isn't just me who still believes. The international conspiracy to cover up these sacred events is massive in scope and evil to it's core.