There was a menagerie spread in front of me, and I had to choose which animal to eat.
We were seperated by a thick, dirty sheet of glass. They were arranged like a FAO Schwartz Xmas display.
There was one blue, ugly looking fish.
It had a yellow horn sticking out of its forehead, like it belonged there all along(but it was clearly so wrong)
It must've been living 20,000 leagues under the sea and hoarded over here by Jules. It was daunting, heavy, and definitely inedible.
There was a tag popping out near the fish, claiming it was a A Living National Treasure--though it looked quite dead--come to think of it, the whole menagerie was not breathing at all.
I was facing a taxidermist's collection.
I gave the fish one last look, and moved on to the next set of displays. The glass was illuminated, as if a great big lightbulb was shining it from behind. Light was pouring out. Yet, there was no such light. (Lumos!)
I was fronted with a sea of dishes. All looked considerably good. It seemed as though I had to choose some from here for our family dinner.
I was attracted to one particular dish, which looked like a crossover between a paella and a gratin--it was undoubtfully a paella, but for some reason I couldn't let go of the gratin idea. It had visible amounts of green peas, squid, lots of turmeric, curry powder, onions, and red delicious looking vegetables.

It was the dish I'd been looking for. For some reason I thought my mum would love it as well.

I heard much commotion behind me, like pans clashing and utensils being cleansed. I turned round and found my father busily working in an elephantine island kitchen, as if he were in a patisserie competition. Only he was cooking the very dish I was looking at, and a porcini risotto(another I'd favoured), and also squid arrabiatta(why so much squid?)

"Dad? Why are you cooking?...Do we have to cook these for ourselves?"(somehow the possibility did not seem completely outrageous, just mildly annoying that we had to cook our own food at this gigantic restaurant)
"Yes. What else do you want?" he said, rushing to meet the paella plate with his heap of freshly diced onions and peppers.
"No, that was what I wanted anyway." I replied. Then I noticed a plate of spaghetti carbonara, something I've never eaten and likely never will.
"Dad," I said, "I'm sorry to bother you but you've chosen the wrong dish."
He glanced at it, and nodded. My, it was half eaten already, now that I clearly focus on it.
"Did you have a bite of it already?" I joked.
"No," he snapped. "Someone else couldn't finish it so they left it for us to re-cook."
"Oh," I said, somehow perfectly convinced. "So it's free, right?"

Then he looked at me straight in the eye, and said, "NO!"