Fish heads and learning to laugh at myself

I eat chicken. Lots of chicken.
I eat chicken to avoid eating bush meat, or goat, or undecipherable bits of fish.

I eat so much chicken, I'm about to cluck.

To maintain a little variety, I occasionally bake fish, or grill hamburgers, or fry up some pork chops.

My flatmate Jan bought some frozen fish tails (scales and all) and set it out for me to bake last night. And by some, I mean about 2 kilos' worth of frozen fish tails.

I broke open the package and pried two tails off the top of the stack. Then I experienced a tiny panic attack at the mouth-open, jelly-eyeballed, shockingly-lifelike intact fish heads underneath. 4 of them, looking up at me.

IT FREAKED ME OUT.

I put everything in a ziploc bag, shoved it back in the freezer, and made spaghetti instead.