Looking down from atop your throne of clouds, high above the Earth and all of mortal existence, a pang of hunger takes you by surprise. You haven't eaten in hundreds, if not thousands, of years; angels don't require food as frequently as humankind, but there's no such thing as free energy, not even for angels.
On your last visit to earth, you dined with a fellow who made sardines appear in great abundance at his command. As miraculous as the appearance of the fish was, the taste of the little fish, prepared quite simply and immersed in olive oil, was even more magnificent.
You decide to make another visit to Earth in search of your next snack. Perhaps you can find some sardines. If not, well, with any luck, the earthlings have come up with something equally as tasty and affordable.
Touching down, your wings fold upon themselves, tucking away nicely behind your back in such a way that you almost look like a normal human. If it weren't for your quite ridiculous outfit—a large swath of white fabric draped around your shoulders, hanging on just barely to your slender form—you could probably roam freely without drawing any extra attention, but as it was, you had to find some sardines and quickly ascend back to your place on high.
You land where you remember meeting the long-haired fellow all those years ago, but what was once an agrarian coastal refuge was now the parking lot of an Amazon Go store. Despite the drastic changes since your last visit to Earth, you endeavor to seek out sardines by any means necessary, and the Amazon Go store seems like as good a place as any to start your search.
Entering the store, you expect to be met by looks of reproach, but the people here seem to not notice you. Do humans sometimes dress in bedsheets in this area of the world? You push the thought to the back of your mind and begin your search of the aisles.
Dairy, bread, sauces—hark! Canned fish products, as much a miracle as you had ever experienced. The humans must have discovered a means of preserving foods that would otherwise have very short windows of usability. Stepping down the aisle, now with a victorious gait, your eyes dart from box to box. Beach Cliff. King Oscar. Season. Bumble Bee.
You verify that your eyes do not deceive you.
You don't remember bumble bees being fish, but you're intrigued, and decide to grab the red box of Wild Sardines in Extra Virgin Olive Oil.
You would pay for it if you could, but you're an angel, and angels are not bound by human laws. Plus, you don't have any money, so you simply slip the box into your toga and surrepetitiously make your way out of the store. Judge not, lest ye be judged.
The dying sun shines oppressively upon your brow; soon it will be extinguished, along with all of humankind, but for now you must focus on the task at hand.
You sit down on a nearby bench.
Popping open the box of fish, a can slides gently from within its confines. You peel back the lid of the tin and are greeted by a familiar sight—a mass of small oily fish that look just as you remember them. You grab a fish with your bare hand, and place it gently upon your angelic tongue.
As you chew, an earthy flavor coats your mouth. These fish lack almost all manner of a fishy taste, instead being dominated by the olive oil that they are immersed in.
The tail of the fish tickles your throat as you swallow, and you find your mouth to be somehow drier than moments before. Despite their appearance, these are not the quite fish you remember. Their dry and gritty texture is not befitting of such pleasant packaging, and their tails, while not completely deleterious to the experience, are a noteworthy presence.
You scarf down the rest of the can. You might as well, as the man in the toga on the bench outside of the Amazon Go store begins to attract attention from the locals. Wearing a bedsheet may be normal in this area of the world, but eating canned fish with your hands is apparently not.
Ascending back to the heavens, your stomach now full with a rich supply of nutrients (more than enough to last an angel for another millenia or more,) you hope that you make a better choice of canned fish on your next visit to Earth.
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