Man Overboard

This past weekend was full of family fun. We went to a friend's house for her son's birthday and walked out with four new goldfish. I protested. I urged. I fought. 

When we got home, my husband, two kids and I gathered around the little fish tank and stared. 

What the hell do we do now? 

The answer is quite simple: go to the pet store and buy tons of shit you don't need for fish that will live 2.5 days.

What can I say? I am all about responsible pet ownership.

After all of this, I woke up this morning and looked in the tank, and sure enough a fish was doing the sideways float. I stared at him for a few minutes. I kept searching his vacant eyes for something, anything that said, "I AM ALIVE!" One thing to note though, and this is a sidebar: fish have pretty vacant eyes anyways. Whoever said eyes are the window to the soul? What a crock of shit.

So I was staring at the fish eye for a good five minutes feeling all kinds of strange things. (He died under my watch. It is all my fault. His little soul is probably still here and hovering over me. Wait, do fish have souls? Yes. Sure. Ok. Did the other fish love him? Would I have learned to love him? Nickname him? Teach him to graze the surface while I pet him? Why don't I feel anything? Shouldn't there be something transcendental happening here?).

Just then, the "dead" fish jumped up over my head, slapped me in the face and fell on the floor. Did two flips and it died.

A few things to note. Even a fish can choose to not go gently into the good night. He decided to rage against the dying of the light by giving me a fishy five across the eyes. I give him my propers.

Secondly, I am now slightly afraid of the fish tank. I feel it is a cosmicly, strange coincidence that I got bitch slapped by a fish. 

Gotta go practice my butterfly stroke.