List of Things to do with a Dried Cuttlefish

Contrary to my Mom’s verdict, I can think of PLENTY of things to do with the dried cuttlefish we saw for sale at the Asian Market. I’ve spent the past few hours brainstorming, and I’ve compiled quite a list:
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Stick it in a friend’s toilet bowl, close the lid and leave. Wait for screams.
Stuff it behind someone’s car sun visor. Leave it to ripen. For best results, let a few of its tentacles hang down from behind the visor.
Hang it from the car’s rearview mirror.
Stuff it under their car’s seat- preferably during the hot summer. Wait for them to try in vain to find the source of the loathesome smell.
Put it on the doormat of an annoying neighbor, ring the doorbell and RUN LIKE THERE IS NO TOMORROW. If bush cover makes it possible, then hide behind vegetation and watch the results.
Put it under a relative’s pillow and wait for them to find it.
Put it on top of a Christmas tree with the tentacles hanging down as garlands. Adorn the rest of the tree with dried sardines and watch them glimmer in the winter light.
Put it in a CD holder.
Stick it to the wall of a coworker’s office.
Put it in someone’s shoe. Wait for them to try the shoes on.
Put it in someone’s mailbox (note that unless it’s your family’s mailbox, this is a federal offense, and shouldn’t actually be done. In my case, if I did it, my family would immediately know that it was me and wouldn’t report it- although I might get a lecture on the proper use of dried cuttlefish.)
Put it in a neighbor’s fish pond.
Get a fake bird’s nest. Put the cuttlefish on the nest. Stick the nest on a tree in a conspicuous place. Wait for someone to find the cuttlefish “nesting” in the tree. Take photos or video of the discovery process if possible.
Stack two slices of bread as in a sandwich, but with nothing between them. Take a large bite, being sure to leave toothmarks so that people immediately process this object as “a sandwich with one bite missing.” Put the dried cuttlefish between the two slices of bread, making a “cuttlefish sandwich” which appears to have been partially eaten. Place your delightful meal in a public refrigerator, as in an office or school. BE SURE TO LEAVE THE TENTACLES HANGING OUT OF THE SANDWICH- and for best effect, off of the plate onto the shelf.
Paint a funny face on it. Just because.
Give it a name. Preferably a dignified and archaic name such as “Baron Von Richarde Cuphelphishevon.” List it as a contact on your resume. Act shocked when your potential employers have difficulty contacting him.
Put it in a pile of stuffed animals and wait for someone to find it there.
Mail it to someone. For best results, seal it in a plastic bag with a bit of water before mailing it so that it will rehydrate while in transit. You won’t be there when it opens, but you’ll have the warm joy of knowing that you mailed someone a squishy, squid-like dead animal.
Put it in the oven and cook it. Send a family member to “see if dinner is done cooking yet.” Listen for screams.
Cover it with lacquer/resin of some sort to preserve and harden it. Use it as a decor item.
Give it to the cat. Wait for them to offer it to someone special as a gift.
Make a YouTube video series featuring the cuttlefish as the titular character. (You should name it first.)
Hire an out-of-work anime fan to write it into a doujinshi. Then, mass-print it and give it away at anime conventions. Change your name and flee the country.
Run it for US President. Or some other high office. Put tons of effort into electing it, complete with a website, posters and campaign promises. Don’t worry about keeping the campaign promises if it’s elected- politicians never do that anyway.
Go to the mall and find an unwatched purse. Put the dried cuttlefish in the purse. Hide behind something and watch someone find it in there.
Sell it on Etsy. After all, taking a dead cuttlefish and drying it is SORT OF like handmaking something.
GYO FISH PRINTS. Only with a cuttlefish…
Hang it in the window as stylish decor.
Wait until you get a package from someone. Remove the contents and put the dried cuttlefish in the envelope. Reseal the envelope and mark “return to sender” or better yet, “recipient is deceased” (only do the last one if it’s a company or someone who doesn’t actually know you. You don’t want to make your friends cry!)
Give it to someone as a gift, preferably in very fancy wrapping paper. Or in a bag from an expensive store. The sort that will make the recipient expect something sterling silver. But instead, there will be a dried cuttlefish inside. Awesome. (Note that this should NOT be done as an aniversary/birthday present for a spouse.)
Take your dog to the park and play fetch with it- using the dried cuttlefish. This should be done at a time when the park has maximum occupancy in order to collect an audience. If asked, make up a tragic story about how the cuttlefish is an heirloom from the dog’s original owner, your great-aunt Myrtle, and the dog is only happy when reminded of her by the heirloom. Spin this story out as long as possible, making it weirder and weirder until the audience realizes that you’re lying. Then get out of there.
Put it under the couch cushions. Better yet, put it under the couch cushions in the lobby of an expensive hotel after wetting it with lemonade. Then watch the newspapers.
Write poems about it. After you become internationally famous for the emotional “Ode to a Wrinkled Sea Thing,” credit the cuttlefish as your muse in all of your anthologies. Then fake its death and hold a mock funeral for it, charging $100.00 per ticket to the event. Scram with the money.
Sell it as a miracle cure-all. Then change your name and leave the country.
Dance with it at a formal dance. Complain about your inability to get a date with a vertabrate.
Donate it to a small museum- preferably one that wouldn’t realize what it really is. Claim that it’s a cryptid/alien/mysterious creature you found on the beach. Bonus points if you can find a “conspiracy theory” type museum to which to donate the creature.
Hire a neighbor to “pet-sit” it while you go on vacation.
Carry it around while shopping at the mall. Watch people stare.
Eat it. (Of all the things on the list, this is the only one I wouldn’t do.)