Octopus, My Imaginary Friend

He is it, an octopus. He life in a dark and cold ocean, and he hates it. Like any other octopus, he has these poisonous inks. He rarely used it, or maybe he doesn’t know how to use it, I wonder. If I’m an octopus I surely will used that poisonous ink to defeat my opponent. But I’m not him; I’m not an octopus, like he is.

He is it, an octopus. He life in a dark and cold ocean, and he hates it. Like any other octopus, he likes to hide. You know, they had this special ability to hide themselves. I think it called the mimicry. So, no ones can see him when he wants no one to see him. Sometimes it’s great, sometimes I hate his abilities. He only show himself when he want to. And in the rest of the day, he loves to sleep. 

He is it, an octopus. He life in a dark and cold ocean, and he hates it. Like any other octopus, his appearance is noticeable. But don’t you try to catch him; he is slickly as an octopus, because he is. It is a useless job try to keep him do or be something that you want him to be. He’s hard to concur because he’s an octopus.

He is it, an octopus. He life in a dark and cold ocean, and he hates it. He always tells me that he wanted to die. That’s in he’s only way he will ever leave the ocean. “Take this gun and put it in my head. Then, pull the trigger,” he said to me. And so, I put that gun to his fore big head and pull the trigger. “Thank you,” he said. “My poor octopus, you life in the sea, no bullet can killed you down here. The only way I can use this bullet to kill you, is by get out from the ocean. But the only way to leave the ocean is dying,” I said to him.

He is it, an octopus. He life in a dark and cold ocean, and he hates it.