He had always loved calamari. In fact, he loved squid in every form in which it could be prepared. Italian-style, in red sauce. With balsamic vinegar as salad. Fried, baked, stuffed or pickled. With ink or in butter sauce and garlic, it was all delicious to him.
His wife teasingly told him that one day a giant squid mother would come up from the deep and grab him, crying “You ate my children!”
And that’s exactly what happened (minus the shouting), that day. He was walking alone, by the quiet waters. By the gentle sea as the shades of evening drew on, a long, dark tentacle snaked up the sand. Before he had time to recognize what was happening, he felt himself being dragged out to sea.
As the waters closed over his head, his final thought was “Damn. My wife was right! Again!”