It had never seen death before, it had no idea of how it should act once dead, so on the plate death twisted about more fiercely than when it was alive. It did not know that once dead there should be no more moving, so it united all its strength and spite, thrashing like a fierce river bend. It was wriggling so violently, it seemed as though its death might soon be undone. In death, eyes and legs not being connected, they went crawling ahead, all tangled together.

As if the white plate meant to kill it, inside its circle it flipped its suckers like drops of water and billowed roughly. But the plate’s radius was too restricted for death to escape, every path led merely to ridiculous writhing. The chopped up tentacles with their suckers gave up being a single creature’s death; each and every segment became an independent life striving blindly to leave the plate, clung like plaque between the munching teeth, determined not to let go.

An elasticity making the teeth bounce rhythmically as though on springs every time they bit down. An elasticity where between wriggling and being mashed living death and dying life are forming multiple layers like a sandwich. The resilient elasticity of a death not dying all at once but divided finely, many times. An elasticity where an echo of squirming remains between the jaws even after munching is complete. The more unjust this death without a neck or eyes or hands becomes, absurdly the teeth receive an ever more chewy elasticity.