The cuttlefish is not a fish. It is a mollusk of the class cephalopoda.

The cuttlefish is a bit like a clam that millions of years ago came out of its shell and never went back.

In fact, it still has a specialized shell

but on its inside, which is used for buoyancy and is called the cuttlebone.

People for a long time have used this shell to carve

casts for metal jewelry. These people are called cuttleboners.

By me. And now by you.

To move through the ocean, the cuttlefish has a wavy wavy fin that surrounds its mantle.

It also has a siphon, a muscular tube it can squirt water out of for fast propulsion.

Imagine trying to move by vomiting out of a giant straw and flapping your skirt around very very fast.

That is how a cuttlefish do.

The cuttlefish brain is larger than its entire body,

including its brain, which may not make sense, but it does to the cuttlefish.

Because it has a very large brain, the cuttlefish has a very advanced eye,

roughly in the shape of Charlie Brown's mouth when he misses a football.

Or perhaps a W that someone wrote when they were drunk.

Or the letter Q that someone wrote when they were REALLY drunk.

Despite its big brain and weird eyes, the cuttlefish is colorblind,

which is curious because it is a color magician of the deep.

Like a lactose intolerant cheesemaker, the cuttlefish is unaware of its own gifts.

With the help of millions of color change-y things in its skin, it can change color and texture almost instantaneously.

Playing hide and seek with a cuttlefish sucks. They don't move, they just change color.

You can hear them breathing while you count.

How the cuttlefish determines the backgrounds it blends in to is largely a mystery

because it can do it in complete darkness,

which is kind of a dumb gift if you ask me, but still amazing.

Aaahhh!! Fish!! (chuckle)

Then there's the flamboyant cuttlefish, which doesn't try to blend in with sh*t.

It just says, "Why doesn't the world try to blend in with ME?"

You go little man. Don't go changin' for nobody.

When it is threatened, the cuttlefish will often release ink from its ink sac.

The cuttlefish releases that ink in one of two ways.

One is a little--priffing--sort of squirt. Something you might say "excuse me" after.

The second is a release of both ink and mucus.

More of a "throw your underwear out and go home early" sort of inking.

These are called "pseudomorphs," and they're designed to be decoys for the cuttlefish as it escapes.

The cuttlefish feeds by extending two hidden feeding tentacles,

which it uses to snag prey and pull it back towards its poison beak.

What?? Well, apparently it has a beak.

Very slowly it extends...(chuckle) oh that fish just had to move, like, two inches.

Cuttlefish mating begins when the male delicately grabs the female by the face

and inserts another specialized tentacle into an opening near her mouth,

which I hope is not her nose, and inserts sperm sacs.

Males have four pairs of arms and females have three.

Weaker males often disguise themselves as females by hiding two of their arms.

This reminds me of what I may or may not have done in the mirror as a young boy.

These cleverly disguised males swim right past the competition and do the face sex thing.

After the female eggs are fertilized, she gingerly and lovingly puts her eggs in some

random friggin hole on the bottom of the ocean.

The eggs are called "sea grapes" by people who like sh*tty wine.

And they are guarded by the couple until they hatch into the cutest little freaks in the universe.

These little babies are not so good at the camouflage,

but they do the best that they can.

Cover yourself up, little man. And sleep tight.

Remember, if you ever wanna come out of your shell

and let your freak flag fly, the cuttlefish has your back.

Or front. I don't know, I can't tell with them with what's front and what's back

Point is, don't let the tentacle parts wrap around your head.

Or if it happens, plug your nose. 'Cause your nose might get preeegnant.