Last week our fish died, both of them, within 24 hours. Tony died first, and then I think got the tank all nasty and killed Alice - which was very sad because I was *attached* to Alice. And then stupid old ugly Tony the algae eater had to screw everything up. Bastard.
So Tony got chucked in the garbage dosposal, and poor beloved Alice got buried in a gold coffin (and I would like to point out that WE started that trend - not Michael Jackson) with a funeral procession, a few tears, and a touching speech.
And while we were still searching for a coffin, through her tears, Lucy wanted to know when we were getting a new fish. Perhaps that afternoon ?
Yesterday, I finally completed my grief cycle and agreed that we could find a replacement. So we went out and got a Beta: TonyAlice.
TonyAlice is still live 24 hours later, but TonyAlice has a chip on his shoulder. He spends all day dodging back and forth in his bowl, aggressively fanning his fins and working his jaw like he's got a mouthful of tobacco.
I love him.
Last night, we had a little chat.
"Hi TonyAlice."
"Fuck You."
"Want some food ?"
"no."
"You seem a little grumpy."
"Oh YEAH ?" He pressed his little face against the glass. "WHY DON'T YOU COME ON IN HERE AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE ?" He worked his jaw up and down, with his underbite flashing.
"Wow. You are really angry."
"ANGRY ? YOU WANNA SEE ANGRY ?"
And then he took a huge crap.
I love fish.
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10 hours ago
2 comments:
Ha I bet if fish could talk a lot would say F You. Out of the coean and into a dirty bowl while we stare in. Sorry your old fishies died. Long live TonyAlice, the bastard.
Okay, you're right, I need to start reading your blog more, because that was pretty funny. I forget how funny you are when I never see you.
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