Hickey Means Love
The other day, I was sitting in a strange contortion as I watched TV, with my head resting on my arm, legs twisted to the side. I was engrossed in a rerun of My Three Sons, when I realized that I had accidentally given myself a hickey on my shoulder. Well, actually, it was completely intentional, but I didn’t think it would work quite so fast. Only the slightest bit of suction applied and within seconds I had a hickey. So, yes, I gave myself a hickey on purpose. Accidentally.
I assumed it would go away after a few hours, but three days later it had barely faded. Fortunately for me, since it is now short-sleeves season, it looked more like a burn than a hickey. Or maybe like a strawberry birthmark. At least that’s what I decided I would tell anyone who asked.
I guess I just didn’t realize that I had such delicate skin, organs perilously close to the surface like those transparent sea creatures on the ocean floor that we’re only now able to see thanks to recent technological advances in deep-sea submersibles. I suddenly felt a kinship with these animals – like a bioluminescent gelatinous mass with clear skin that revealed my heart beating, cilia combing, primitive intestines digesting.
I’ve never been much of a poet, but this self-discovery inspired me to write the following piece, which I may eventually set to music. I say eventually because right now, the only instrument I own is a harmonica, and the only thing I know how to play is the intro to “Love Me Do.”
So anyway, this shoulder hickey got me thinking about gulper eels which, in turn, made me think about the fragile nature of transparent aquatic love, and that’s what this poem is about.
Don’t Call Me a Brine Shrimp
Don’t call me a brine shrimp.
I am a Sea-Monkey®,
A Sea-Monkey® of love.
I confound scientists
Sprung to life from just a little pouch.
I have three eyes
Because I just can’t get enough of you.
We will make sweet love
Behind the glow-in-the-dark treasure chest
Or not.
I am also asexual.
Don’t call me a brine shrimp.
I am a Sea-Monkey®,
A Sea-Monkey® of love.
Please remember to give me one level spoon
Of specially formulated Sea-Monkey® food
Once each week
And I promise you this:
Hours and hours of fun
Until I die within one to two years.
Or sooner
If you forget to feed me.
I am not a brine shrimp.
Do brine shrimp live in rocket ship homes?
Can brine shrimp perform tricks?
Do brine shrimp bring laughter to children the world over?
Have brine shrimp known love?
I am a giant.
I am a clown.
I am an astronaut.
I am a hunter.
So don’t call me a brine shrimp.
I am a Sea-Monkey®,
Your Sea-Monkey® of love.
Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap.
Filed under: General on July 16th, 2007
July 15th, 2007 at 11:40 pm
Ok, Sea Monkey Of Love has officially been stolen by me, because I read it and spewed water all over the living room, barely missing the laptop and only because I had the quickness of mind and reflex to FLING IT FROM ME onto the couch.
You might warn me next time, fer crissake. Hickeys, ok. Sea Monkey Of Love, WARNING.
July 15th, 2007 at 11:49 pm
Monkey sea, monkey do. I think you have a bright future as a lyricist.
July 16th, 2007 at 1:50 am
Awwww… I haven’t seen “My Three Sons” forever! Was is a black and white or color episode?
July 16th, 2007 at 6:22 am
Heh Heh.
July 16th, 2007 at 7:56 am
tracy lynn: not the laptop! good god, woman – thank god for your cat-like reflexes!
shari: i’ll add it to my ever-growing list of things to do when i grow up.
dave2: it was in color… man, that ernie kid was creepy!
strode: hee.
July 16th, 2007 at 10:21 am
If you can get David Byrne to sing these lyrics while you throw on a unitard and do an interpretive dance behind a white screen, that would definitely be…something.
July 16th, 2007 at 10:21 am
If you can get David Byrne to sing these lyrics while you throw on a unitard and do an interpretive dance behind a white screen, that would definitely be…something.
July 16th, 2007 at 6:04 pm
Gol, if I had a tenth your creativity, I would be … very creative indeed. The tap dance motif turns out to be brilliant, for you are a never-ending internet vaudeville, all by yourself. Just don’t do the fire-breathing thing, k?
July 16th, 2007 at 11:46 pm
Have you seen Finding Nemo?
“Sea monkey has my money.”
July 17th, 2007 at 1:36 am
If there’s one thing that can bring Sea Monkeys back from obscurity, it’s this poem. It’s like Homer’s The Iliad except for crustaceans instead of Greeks.
July 17th, 2007 at 4:51 am
“MTS” (as we fans call it) was one of the earliest citable examples of sitcom shark-jumping. For 100 points (no googling,please): name the late-in-run kid addition to the cast.
July 17th, 2007 at 7:15 am
sir: “this is not my beautiful sea-monkey!”
don: just wait ’til i pull out the old ventriloquist act. it slayed them in peoria!
thb: wait? there’s a sea-monkey in finding nemo? i need to watch it again…
iron fist: thank you for recognizing the homeric influences.
hap: well, i would’ve said ernie just because he seems like the cousin oliver equivalent, but then it would’ve been called my two sons and this ugly runaway.
July 17th, 2007 at 7:57 am
Dear Jenny,
You are an underwater bard! A minstral for mermaids!
To poetry! And… sea monkeys!
Love,
Vivian
July 17th, 2007 at 12:19 pm
Sea-Monkeys? Hmmmm…Jenny, have you been to the casino again? Oh, wait, no….you have just shared a big lucky premonition with me, right? Thanks, pal, if I win, I’ll share with you.
July 17th, 2007 at 12:44 pm
I am finding myself singing your poem to the tune of Love Me Do.
I’m not sure it exactly fits, but it will do.
July 17th, 2007 at 1:20 pm
Someone please PLEASE write the music for this. (Hi Jenny.)
July 17th, 2007 at 3:43 pm
Bloody Brilliant.
This could be the new advertising campaign that brings Sea Monkey’s back it’s rightful place in American Pop culture.
If you take requests I would like to read “Ode to the Chia Pet”.
July 17th, 2007 at 6:21 pm
vivian: if only there were a bigger market for sea-creature sonnets.
fiorello: ooh – you definitely need to share those winnings with me. but if you lose, it’s all you…
miss britt: hmm… it might fit better to “when i’m 64,” but that’s also a stretch.
peefer: yes, please! and btw, peefer? i hickey you.
mad william: oooh… a ch-ch-ch-chia pet poem? you are my muse.
July 18th, 2007 at 4:20 am
Your NEA grant check is in the mail. MacArthur Foundation indicates interest, also…. And the Marjorie C. Shuggin Foundation. (“Shuggin… Fit for Brains”)