The big news in the islands this week is the prediction of a poi shortage in coming months. The heavy rains on Kauai have flooded the taro patches of Hanalei, which supplies some 70 percent of the state's total. Ron's been getting good mileage out of my comment about how taro-ble it will be. One of his clients responded to the news with "poi oh poi. I hope it doesn't make us any poi-er." Personally, I was devastated, as I had just embarked upon the poi-pous driven life. I'm sure you get the poi-nt by now. It's all so poi-nient when you think about it. Now that I've poi-nted this big of news out to you, I hope you are poi-sed to deal with it. I know, I know... this blog has been punn - ishing. Or should I say poi-nishing? Of course, if you eat poi, you generate Poipu, a famous beach on Kauai. OK. I'm all pau now. Done. Finito. Period. (Period.... hey, that's a poi-nt at the end of a sentence.....) Help me!!!!!! I need a new brain!
The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud...
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