Friday, November 30, 2012

A Fish Called Wilma

Wanna hear a story?

So I have this fish. Her name is Wilma. She is 2 years old.

(Flashback: I had two fish my freshman year named Fred and Ginger. Then Ginger died. But then just having a fish named Fred was super lame, so I got him a rebound wife named Wilma. Well, then Fred died. So now I have Wilma.)

Now you're all caught up.

So Wilma's always been a little . . . odd. Like she's always done this thing where she lies on the bottom of the tank all the time.

. . . I didn't say it was an interesting thing.

But then when I went to feed her, she'd get all excited and swim around. It's by far the most exciting thing fish do. Fish suck.

So, the thing is . . . Wilma's been sort of dying for the past 2 months. She just kinda flops around on the bottom of the tank. Sometimes she tries to swim to the top, mustering everything she's got to reach the surface, but eventually she just floats back down to the bottom like that feather from Forrest Gump. It's really quite pathetic.

Last weekend I brought her home for Thanksgiving because doing the opposite would have been animal cruelty. Also because I guess I "love" her, blah blah blah whatever. When I got home I thought, "You know what, self? I'm gonna clean Wilma's fish tank. Cos I'm a pet parent. And as such, I'm responsible!"

So I did. But very little changed. I mean her water was less poopy, but her demeanor remained apathetic and exponentially morbid.

I came back to Knoxville on Sunday, clean sad fish in tow.

And you know what happened?

I left that stupid fish in the car overnight, and she died.

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