The same fish. The same rice. When leftovers become leftovers and those leftovers become leftovers and those become... Ish!

The Kid dug through the provisions. We both agreed no five day old, going on six day old, going on this fish is too old for supper fish, and rice times rice times rice = twice plus thrice is not so nice rice is out.

"Ah, Spam." Usually, Ah and Spam do not occupy the same sentiment, but when said just right, "Spam!" sounds like a mix between a magical meal and a mundane meal kicked up a notch.

This Captain found some beans, scraped together some more red sauce and The Kid grabbed the pepper, some hot sauce, and the Spam. We were on our way to chili (the meal not the country). The following is the suggested recipe:

1 can spam

1 big can red sauce

1 mug of water

2 cans of beans (any kind you find, except lima, green or string)

1 cut up kinda small pices onion (any natural color will do)

salt splashed in, pepper shaken not stirred in, hotsauce dripped in

1 leftover fish head

1 12 or 16oz bottle of beer

Cut the Spam into small pieces. Try to do a ground beef imitation (the Spam, not you) by placing the small pieces into a deep pan and as they heat up keep cutting/breaking into smaller chunk-like objects. As the Spam sort of browns, add the red sauce and the water. Dump in the beans. Scrape in the diced/split/cut-up onion, and dribble in the hotsauce (dribble in depending on barometric pressure, peer pressure, and blood pressure) Stir, then add salt and pepper. Simmer 20 to 30 minutes depending on your simmerer thing. Take the fish head and the beer into the cockpit. Throw the fish head overboard. Open the beer. Place feet up. Unsimmer 20 to 30 minutes.

Spam is yet another singular/plural food as is fish and rice. A pattern which began with shopping, but went unnoticed until eating commenced, now became clear.  So we went through the singular/plural food leftovers routine. Spam this and Spam that. Here some Spam, there some Spam, everywhere Spam and Spam.

Just short of being in the irons of food madness the seas subsided and we headed south again.

"Want anything to eat?"

"Yeah, but I see Nassau rising. I'll wait."

Next the chorus and our next meal.

The Captain and The Kid