So I had in mind these two buddies, Fatty McGoldfish and Monsieur Snaps, escaping the kitchen benchtop and heading off. Perhaps for just the day, perhaps for good. The skies are clear and they’re in the clear – full speed ahead, let’s go!
As I worked, happily mumbling away to myself, lost in the vision, it seemed I’d overlooked exactly how they were on the move. Where was the steering? What was the means of propulsion? What, was McGoldfish supposed to be peddling? Oh sure, and what feasible engineering solution would there for the chain passing through the bottom of the glass bowl? And why would it be there in the first place – were they always hanging out in a mobile fish bowl? Things weren’t adding up. They might have been on the go but it would have to have been all downhill.
“It’s all downhill, all downhill…”
Crikey. I began to see what would unfold if this story was followed – innocence en-route to oblivion:
Skip the first scene and cut to the excitement and comic effect of seeing these two hurtling through peak-hour, inner-city bedlam, their fragile glass bowl jittering and careening like a pinball under taxis and trucks, launching off gutters and up delivery van gang-planks to burst through a wall of cardboard boxes, airborne in an instant where, in super slow-motion, they sail mid-air across the traffic intersection where, at the apex of their trajectory, we zoom in to see their eyebrows (yes, yes, of course they have eyebrows, they’ve come this far they’re having feckin’ eyebrows ok) raise in unison and they gasp as they glimpse the golden promise of the beach beyond nestled up against the limitless, glittering blue quartz of the sea…
AND… Cut the slow-mo – cue the massive lorry from stage left and the Smith’s There is a light that never goes out.
My stomach is a-flutter and this is how they’ve ended up. Safe and sound. Fatty and Snaps are kicking back on the benchtop getting their stoke on ’cause they’ve just started a marathon of The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau on the box. Happy days…