On the Rocks

 

I wouldn’t have thought that fish had a taste for worms.  Fish live in the water while worms hang around underground. One swims and one wiggles, one has fisheyes, the other a tail at each end.  Neither has feathers.

Then again, whoever decided olives should go into a martini?  One grows on trees, while the other gets cooked, filtered, aged and sipped.  Both are stored in glass, yet one is bumpy and the other a liquid, not bumpy.  Neither has feathers.

Brought together by fate, perhaps.  The same fate that confines beautiful orchestra music to a pit.