Alanna the Piranha Chapter 13

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here once again to introduce the thirteenth installment of my story Alanna the Piranha. It has been brought to my attention that I might be a splendid choice of canis lupus familiaris to take up truffle hunting as a hobby. Although I am most flattered by this suggestion, I do hate the wet and cold. I prefer to be warm and dry and inside. The Maltese, however, was born to romp in the rain.

I was not. I do not like the rain. I do not like the mud.

Oh, come now. You love mushrooms. You always order them on pizza.

But I do not want to go outside and get wet and dirty and cold.

How do you think one comes by mushrooms?

UPS brings them.  


We order them online and they appear at our door. Just like the replicator on Star Trek.

You are certifiable. Anyway, here is chapter thirteen of Alanna the Piranha. Godere!

Alanna the Piranha


Gigi the parti poodle

Day the Thirteenth

I am still licking my wounds after last night’s fiasco with Brooke. Honestly, chicks are way too sensitive. I wasn’t trying to move in with her. Or even make a move on her. I…well I was just trying to show some compassion. If I were a Chad, I would have had the good sense not to have shown compassion. I was so embarrassed about what I said, I wasn’t even able to concentrate on Stacy’s dance team’s routine which is usually the highlight of the night next to staring at the cheerleaders.

I went back to my standard schedule giving the bunny and the piranha their shots. The piranha is getting bigger. When I reached into the tank to jab her, she splashed around so much I couldn’t hold her. Then later when I went to check on her tank, she was nowhere to be found. I figured she must be hiding somewhere, maybe in this castle structure I bought the other day and submerged in the water. Its rather large so I guess she could be camouflaging herself. I put some food in the tank and waited for her to swim to the top, but she never showed.

Due to my pouting about Brooke, I was tempted to regress and log into today, but somehow, I managed to curb my impulse. I’d read an article the other day about mass delusion. Not just individuals but entire societies becoming psychotic. This was one of the main reasons I gave up being a member on Incel sites. I realized staying there was dragging me deeper and deeper into fantasy. Dark and twisted fantasy. I have seen too many posts about guys on the site taking their own lives. A lot of smart guys who could have made something of themselves. Guys with brains who could change the world.

I fear my generation is stuck in a state of extended adolescence. And I think ever since the concept of teenagers made its way into society, each generation starting with the baby boomers has extended the length of adolescence a little bit more. Sometimes when I visit my Aunt Linda’s house, I take note of the possessions she has. She owns things that a grown up would own, not a kid. She put away childish things as it were. There are no action figures in Plexiglas, or a room dedicated to fashion dolls or teddy bears or boxes of bagged comic books. Instead, she has a few paintings hanging on her walls, a couple sculptures, photos in frames, and bookshelves filled with non-fiction, novels, and short stories. And if you haven’t noticed, she’s exceptionally frugal. I guess my first step in abandoning my path to perma-Incel after abandoning was to put away childish things and focus more on my interest in science. Like selling most of my comic book collection to buy supplies. And that’s not easy to do in a world where everyone is encouraged to shop and live inside video games and social media. Sometimes I wonder if the more virtual the world becomes the less necessary it is to be an adult. Do we regress into the childish madness of Lord of the Flies and accept anarchy as normality, or do we search for a labyrinth that leads us to reality?

Since Brooke was so enamored with my Newfoundland Dwarf, I decided to find out what would happen if I took the little puff ball to the park. It was cold, but the sun was out and there wasn’t any wind. When I got there, I saw a lot of people out and about, but they were mostly senior citizens. No real Stacys around for me to dazzle with the rabbit. The only attention I got was a little girl with blonde hair in soft curls who came running up pulling her grandfather by the hand and squealing “Bunny! Bunny!” I let her pet the rabbit as her grandfather gave me the hairy eyeball like I was some sort of a pervert. Then I headed home.

On the way home I stopped at the grocery store to get lunch. As I was standing in the deli with the bunny in my arms trying to decide what to buy, a clerk told me I had to have my pet on a leash or leave. I left. So much for trying to pick up chicks with the Newfoundland Dwarf.

When I got back the piranha was parked at the front of the tank. It may have been my imagination, but she looked bigger to me. I set the bunny down on her mini dog bed and she fell asleep immediately. In the meantime, I studied the piranha’s size, and I am quite certain she has expanded at least one inch in all directions.

“Huh,” I thought and wondered how one went about accurately measuring the size of their pet piranha. Her fins looked strange too, like they were separated or something. I was starting to wonder if the reason Lyle gave me a sale price for the piranha was because she’s defective. It figures I’d end up a sucker who bought a malfunctioning piranha. I take note that the fish food I sprinkled in her tank is gone. I guess I’ll have to go raid my mother’s sewing kit and dig out a measuring tape.


You can check out my books Chicane and the five installments in my Musicology book series Musicology: Volume One, Baby!Musicology: Volume Two, Kid!Musicology: Volume Three, Twist!Musicology: Volume Four, Sweetie! and Musicology: The Epiquad on Amazon in Kindle and Paperback editions. You can also check out Musicology’s web site at and vote for who you think will win Musicology!!!


The Golden Globe nominations came out this week and the most glaring snub of them all is not giving credit to what is easily one of the best films of the year. Not relying on explosions or gore or special effects, Pig is clearly a standout both as a movie and as one of Nicolas Cage’s finest and most Oscar worthy performances. Brandy who plays the pig is outstanding as well and yes, she is an actual pig, you know the kind that goes “oink, oink” and not a CGI creation. I never thought I’d have to point that out but apparently there are viewers and journalists out there who struggle to know the difference.   

Rob (Nicholas Cage) is a seemingly simple man who lives alone in the middle of the Oregon wilderness. His only companion is his extraordinarily sweet and well-trained foraging pig (Brandy). Rob and his porcus hunt for truffles that lay buried in the woods. Truffles, for those of you who think they are only a type of chocolate that you purchase at upscale candy stores, are dark roundish sometimes oblong subterranean mushrooms/fungi that are worth a lot of money. Rob gives the mushrooms he and the pig find to Amir (Alex Wolff), a young image obsessed Sysco-type salesman who sells them for premium prices to high end restaurants in Portland. In exchange, Amir brings Rob supplies which at first glance seems like he’s lowballing him. But Amir doesn’t really know Rob as well as he thinks. And when low-rent poachers break into Rob’s cabin one night and steal his cochon, Amir finds himself assisting a very tenacious Rob on an unexpected odyssey to rescue his precious pig.

I should mention that amongst many things the film does right one is point out that there is a difference between a cook/chef and a baker. I have come across jackasses out there who stubbornly insist there is no difference. They are wrong. Though they may work together in restaurants, cooks and bakers have different skill sets. Therefore, schools like the Oregon Culinary Institute separates the culinary program from the baking and pastry arts program.  

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