It is a blessing to chew freely and loudly on octopus legs as tough as a stress ball, reassuring oneself that the effort of chewing and squeezing would relieve the awkwardness and rude stares thrown your way for magnifying a defect in biology and the creation of all things unique.
Sharp claws are ideal for ripping out the hearts of those who might exist for a grander purpose, like how these creatures predict the destiny of a sports war between nations.
A desired trait yet to be uncovered in the depth of the ocean, where the sandstorms rage and seaweeds flourished in a tangled dance to cultivate the strong, resilient, and greatly favor the few that mastered the art of invisibility.
Grabbing prey can be tough work, too much effort added to the already tense arena that requires constant attention against danger, and ideally the food shall swim directly into one’s mouth, leisurely, willingly and gracefully so.
It would be a pleasant experience for the ecosystem as a whole where everyone knows their place in the food chain. It’s either to eat or be eaten.
Most of us spend our entire waking existence being in the former category, but often forget that living is the catalyst that demands us to eat.
Life is being eaten by what we choose to spend our time, and anything that we choose is neither right nor wrong, including work, play, sleep, think, or eating octopus legs.