I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but my smoke alarm is a little too sensitive. Let’s just keep it between you and me. I’m afraid if it hears me talking about it, it’ll go off again—and when it does, boy can this thing ever wail.
And I don’t mean the Moby-Dick kind of whale. More the Free Willy kind—because I would also love to set this smoke alarm free. It goes off willy-nilly.
The thing is, I don’t even know why it goes off. I’ll just be going about my usual business—you know, cooking a whale-sized portion of fish fingers in the oven. Not for Free Willy, but for my girlfriend. And before thar she blows, no, I’m not comparing her to a whale. She just likes Plenty of Fish. And after that whale joke, I’m honestly not sure if she means the seafood or the dating app. I should probably quit while I’m Ahab.
I’ve often wondered which anatomical part of the fish its “fingers” come from, since fish famously lack hands. But it finally clicked—they’re harvested from the fin-gers. Sorry if that fish shtick didn’t land… or sea, for that matter. I’ll let myself out before this gets any more crappie. Honestly, I just needed a diversion so my girlfriend forgot all about the whale comparison—because I swear to pod, she will krill me for that.
But honestly? That still might not get me first.
The other day I had an actual flame licking up from the burner, and the smoke alarm stayed eerily quiet. But the moment I cook food properly; it sounds like a bullhorn. Or maybe a bull whale.
Just to clarify, my girlfriend is not a whale. And she is definitely not a killer. But judging by the behavior of my smoke alarm, there is a killer whale out there who didn’t appreciate my whale jokes—or the comparison.
I don’t want to point fins, but this feels less like faulty wiring and more like orca-nized crime.
