Sshh!…Don’t Tell Him I Told You #4

This is the tale of a fish and a fool. Right. So I somehow got it into my thick head that I wanted a pet. What better pet than a fish? Low maintenance, soundless, no barking, no poo on the carpet, no nawing on the shoes; it was gonna be great. And then…I remembered that I live with a shit disturber (Mr. SD). I mean literally, it should be his nickname or something.

I get a 10 gallon tank and I go shopping for tank decorations (window dressing) and fish. The fish keeper hands me an empty tank for me to play around with decor placement and then shakes his head at me and sends me home, fishless. He warns me that I need to set up the tank and let some bacteria grow. I aim to be a competent fish owner so I go home armed with a thermometer and a pool heater, some glowy rocks, a replica of the Greek coliseum and some oozy goozy stuff to put in the water. I rattle off all the warnings the fish keeper advised to Mr. SD and tell him that we patiently have to wait.

The next day, Mr. SD comes home with a bag of 15 goldfish. 15! Seriously! I remind Mr. SD the rule of thumb was one fish to one gallon of water. I call my friend who works on aquariums and he advises, “Well, uh…you’re definitely gonna lose some fish, if not all.”  Oh hell, well, I might as well let it run it’s course. Then Mr. SD comes home with two Beta fish. He’s intrigued by the fact that they call them fighting fish. “Let’s put them in the same tank so we can watch them fight.”, he says. I told you! I knew you didn’t believe me when I called him an shit disturber.

So then, Mr. SD regales me in his tale of how he once stole…oh sorry “borrowed” a microscope from school to do experiments on chemicals in his basement but his mother reported him and took it back to school. He points to himself and taps his temple as he says, “See, I’m intelligent!” Meanwhile I’m thinking, Ummm…not so much really. He points to the Beta tanks (glass vases with colored rocks) and says, “You should put more water in the tanks.”

I tell him specifically, “You shouldn’t put too much water in the tanks because the fish may jump out.” He laughs in disbelief. Weeks go by uneventful up until last week. After a long day at work, I’m sitting on the couch typing away on my computer. He comes in and stands in front of the tanks. He turns around and asks me, “What did you do with the fish?” Confused with a furrowed brow I look up at him.

“I haven’t done anything with the fish.” I glanced around either side of him at the tank from the couch and said, “Why is the water so high? It’s full to the brim and I know I didn’t do that.”

“No, I did it.”, he exclaims. He walks from the front of the apartment to the back of our one bedroom apartment, going into the kitchen and coming back out. “Seriously, what did you do with the fish?”

I hold up my hands and swear,”I haven’t done anything with the fish. When I left this morning, both fish were in their tanks…where they live…where they are supposed to be… dude. He probably jumped out and you need to find him before he starts stinking.” Mr. I’m intelligent. I’m a smart man. *Eye roll* I stop typing to watch him look all around the mantle, by the TV and then finally, bend over at the waist and stare at the carpet.

Fish Escape

He exclaimed in the highest pitch voice, “That motherf*cker jumped out!”

He looks at me wide eyed and slack jawed, completely amazed. “That female fish caused him to commit suicide. What a stupid fish!”  Mammals are supposed to be smarter right?

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