tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36752322011-04-21T19:09:03.598-07:00Lucky the GoldfishFrom the acquarium to...well, he pretty much stays in the acquarium. The adventures of a goldfish with an attitude.Marknoreply@blogger.comBlogger571100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-16193533562646487442008-05-26T09:17:00.001-07:002008-05-26T09:25:23.743-07:00Going Backwards...Well, I've talked twice now about how I got into the open sea. Twice. I guess I'm getting old for a goldfish, as I'm repeating myself. Repeating myself. Repeating myself. Repeating...Yeah, that joke is getting old, too.So here I am, in the deep, deep ocean. Actually, being a goldfish, I can't go too deep--the pressure would collapse my little lungs--so I have to keep Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-58779710972541315802008-05-08T15:54:00.000-07:002008-05-08T16:00:40.373-07:00Out the drainSo, where was I? Why do I have to keep asking that question? I know, I know. Goldfish. 15 seconds of memory. That joke gets old after a while. AS do all jokes, like the Smirk whose time is almost finished in the big white house on TV. I see him, still, blaming everyone but himself for the things that go wrong. How did it all go so wrong for him? I'm the one down the drain Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-51515418149704989142007-08-06T09:46:00.000-07:002007-08-06T09:54:04.209-07:00Swimming with PredatorsIt must have been two days that I swam in the darkness, avoiding large pieces of something foul. I don't want to think about it. Really.Finally there was another push and I felt myself being shoved toward a large whirling presence. I knew this couldn't be good. Sure enough, the large pieces of...something...were being chopped into little bits by what you would call a Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-43912930224931740892007-07-22T19:08:00.000-07:002007-07-22T19:14:20.847-07:00Down the DrainSo now I'm spinning and spinning and whooshing and whooshing and, to tell the truth, friends, I get sick to my stomach rather easily, so the last bit of fish food I'd wolfed down came wolfing back up. That was the least of my problems.I spun and flipped through a long, long tunnel that tasted of metal. It was narrow and there were no other fish, rocks, nothing but a smooth bottom Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-69630788030738000192007-07-03T10:50:00.000-07:002007-07-03T10:56:13.307-07:00Out of the BowlWow! Has it been more than a year! Time sure flies when you're terrified shitless.Yes, my friends, the reason you haven't heard from old turtle bait here is that I was unceremoniously evicted from my bowl! By the Deacon, no less!Happened like this: After my political conversations with the Deacon, he began to give me the fisheye, if you know what I mean. More and more, the Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1148452107149211742006-05-23T23:21:00.000-07:002006-05-23T23:28:27.176-07:00Finally, after a few days, the Deacon comes out of the hidely hole. If fish slept, I would tell you that it seemed he hadn't slept that whole time. Alas, fish do not sleep--no eyelids, you know--so he was merely cranky.At first he avoided me. Didn't look me in the eye. I knew I had gotten to him. So I played it cool. Trying to think up what else to say to blow his mind."Maybe I was wrong Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1145675204252834962006-04-21T20:00:00.000-07:002006-04-21T20:06:44.263-07:00So one day I'm spinning around the bowl. I'm trying to figure out how to fuck with the Deacon's tiny fish brain. I thought of trying the War on Easter, but that was too easy.Then it came to me. The fish loves the Smirk, as all beings with a tiny brain stuffed with nonsense seem to. So why not go after the Smirk?"YOu know, I've been looking over Revelations," I casually said to the Deacon one Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1142753689027850942006-03-18T23:34:00.000-08:002006-03-18T23:34:49.030-08:00Where were we beforeWhere were we before I started in on the politics? Oh yeah, the Deacon.The Deacon’s been looking worried lately. I’m not sure why, but then I’m not sure what goes on in that fish brain of his to begin with.He’s stopped telling me that I’m going to hell. Maybe he thinks I got the message. Maybe it was the last time he told me I’m going to hell I told him that I was okay with that because Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1140459461947519202006-02-20T10:17:00.000-08:002006-02-20T10:17:41.950-08:00President's DudeOkay, let’s see. You call this President’s Day because you can’t choose which guy you want to honor—the white haired dude with the wooden teeth, or the tall, lanky guy with the beard and tall hat. So instead you set aside a day for all the guys who have sat in the chair and made the big decisions, such as, do we invade Iraq or Iran? Or, do I look fat in this legislation?It’s not too early to Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1138122807369951582006-01-24T09:08:00.000-08:002006-01-24T09:13:27.380-08:00So it's a new year, and do you feel better? I'm happy because the fat fool who owns me finally cleaned the water again. I'm thinking of getting him a PDA with a reminder to clean the bowl every two weeks. Some people should not have fish.As for your political life, it's become so surreal that even I, the fish, now can't believe how stupid you humans are. Supposedly fish have only 15 seconds Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1134707562904484952005-12-15T20:32:00.001-08:002005-12-15T20:32:42.903-08:00Well I see that theWell, I see that the Smirk is trying again to tap dance around why he invaded the world’s largest sandbox, complete with irritating fleas and terrorists. Now he says that even though the intelligence was wrong, he’d still invade even if he’d have known that then. Hmm. Do you think he actually did know that then, which is why he’s so sure of himself?I dunno. The whole “I know I made a mistake Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1133939327990865602005-12-06T23:03:00.000-08:002005-12-06T23:08:48.000-08:00Now the Deacon has taken to muttering and giving me the fish eye whenever I pass him. Fish eye. Hey, that's funny.Anyway, the fool has now started accusing me of stealing Christmas from him. He says stupid things like "You liberals hate Jesus, that's why you won't wish me a Merry Christmas.""Merry Christmas, Rockhead.""See? You're a heathen.""You haven't wished me a Merry Christmas.""Why Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1129775307086811252005-10-19T19:23:00.000-07:002005-10-19T19:28:27.090-07:00While the Deacon sulks and stares at the heavens, no doubt waiting for the Almighty to strike me with lightning (not an easy thing to do when one is hiding in a fish tank, even for the Almighty, who, one presumes, has other things on his or her mind...)Anyway, I've been watching your squaking box. Looks like president Smirk is having some fish tank slime problems of his own. His best buddy, theMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1127882188107569312005-09-27T21:32:00.000-07:002005-09-27T21:36:28.113-07:00some of you probably wonder what happens during the months when I don't post on this blog. I wonder myself. As I've said a lot of times, goldfish only have 15 seconds of memory...which is about 14 seconds more than most politicians. Or political pundits.But during this time the Deacon has been swimming in agitation back and forth in the bowl. He keeps muttering things like "armageddon" and "Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1118894771997807092005-06-15T21:01:00.000-07:002005-06-15T21:06:12.003-07:00I've named my new buddy "The Deacon." Can't remember what his name is supposed to be. Sometimes having a 15 second memory lapse is helpful.The Deacon sits in his little corner, muttering something about non-believers and the culture of life. He's given me the fish eye on more than one occasion, and I wouldn't be surprised to discover that the culture of life he's talking about includes Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1117002430117412742005-05-24T23:22:00.000-07:002005-05-24T23:27:10.123-07:00So while the religious fish sits in the corner of the bowl plotting against me (what is it about the religious zealots that they're always plotting?) I'm watching some more of your television, because it amuses me to see the foolish things you do.There's this show where you have people get up and sing and shake their butts and then other people insult them. It reminded me, in not a small way, ofMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1115689027058110772005-05-09T18:30:00.000-07:002005-05-09T18:37:07.063-07:00So it's been a few days and this fool is sitting in the corner of the tank eyeing me warily. He's got that damned crazy look in his eye. I don't have a good feeling about this. He keeps muttering under his breath about terrorists and levels of danger and why God wants him to take over this tank for his glory and to banish all heathens. He gives me the fish eye when he talks about heathens.So Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1113890439367123182005-04-18T22:55:00.000-07:002005-04-18T23:00:39.370-07:00Well, it's finally happened. After my long months of solitude, I was finally blessed--or cursed, you decide which--with a companion in the bowl.It happened today. I was swimming around, minding my own business, wondering why it was that these Christian Right people kept yelling about how they were going to take over the government. I dunno. From the movies you guys show on the TV about that Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1110870189956668512005-03-14T22:56:00.000-08:002005-03-14T23:03:09.956-08:00well, long time since you've been swimming in the tank with me, mon frer. Yes, I'm learning French, slowly. The way things are going in your dry world, the French will be the only sane people who keep goldfish and don't eat them.Let's see. You reelected the guy who likes to act dumb to make people misunderestimate him. Forrest Gump is now running your country and you have no idea where all Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1103956544294127622004-12-24T22:30:00.000-08:002004-12-24T22:35:44.293-08:00Where was I? Oh, yes. The election.
It's over. That's all that needs be said about that.
Now you land dwellers are celebrating a weird little holiday where you give one another things and pretend to like each other. We goldfish don't have such holidays. First, we have no material possessions. I think it has to do with not having pockets, so we can't carry money, so we can't buy stuff. Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1095664101317566252004-09-20T01:00:00.000-07:002004-09-20T00:17:49.036-07:00Okay, let me see if I can get this straight. I'm a goldfish and sometimes my little brain doesn't quite wrap itself around the subtleties of your politics.
Latest from the people is that you're all really worried about the scuffle in the sand, as well you should be. Those damned sand people don't understand that you're just there to bring them Demogogery and Halliburton, not necessarily in that Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1095232700662929892004-09-15T01:13:00.000-07:002004-09-15T00:18:20.663-07:00Well, my friends, now the water is really getting green. I'm not talking about my tank--my owner actually took a lot of bad water out and put some fresh stuff in today, thanks buddy. I'm talking about your elections.
Let's see. The Smirk made a big deal of landing on a flight deck of an air craft carrier last year, wearing the flight suit and looking like GI Smirk. Hell, they even made an "Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1093328083591665472004-08-23T23:11:00.000-07:002004-08-23T23:14:43.590-07:00Now, from what I see in the fishbowl, some people are trying to say that Granite Face somehow lied about his ribbons. Let's see. He puts every person who served with him on that little tin boat in that small Asian country 40 years ago; pulls up the guy whose life he saved; even has photos of him on the damned boat. And these guys are saying he's lying?
Maybe it's because they, themselves, lieMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1091606879994811102004-08-04T01:01:00.000-07:002004-08-04T01:07:59.993-07:00So, granite face didn't do too badly in his speech. All the announcers kept saying it had to be "the speech of his life," as if he did badly he would have a heart attack and keel over right there on the podium. He could have seemed desperate, or maybe somewhat disconnected--like that wooden puppet boy a few years back. Or he could have smirked, which seems to work for the Smirk Monkey that's Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1091080411324278502004-07-28T22:49:00.000-07:002004-07-28T22:53:31.323-07:00So since I have no companion, I watch the rodent in the cage next door. She's foolish. The big human will put food in her cage and she'll run around madly as if he's going to snatch her and eat her. I suppose if I was that small, I'd worry about that, too--except he does this two or three times a week. You'd think, at this point, that even a dumb rodent would realize that the giant hand comesMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1090307519552744732004-07-20T00:06:00.000-07:002004-07-20T00:11:59.553-07:00Ahhh....
Yes, that's me relaxing. Maybe the big lout that runs this fishbowl finally got the hints. Like me glaring at him from the green water of the bowl. Like my protest signs stuck in the rocks. Like the skeleton of sucky fading in the bottom of the tank.
One way or another, this fool finally decided to clean out the tank last week. Bout damned time. I was choking on the green waterMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1088660575899467692004-06-30T22:39:00.000-07:002004-06-30T22:42:55.900-07:00So as Sucky continues to fade away at the bottom of the tank, my idiot owner still hasn't cleaned the place out. I wonder what would happen if there were more than one goldfish in the tank. At least he remembers to feed me.
Meanwhile the mice in the cage next to me run on that damned wheel day and night. Day and night. It's enough to drive a goldfish nuts, and you know that sound doesn't Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1087540140442241502004-06-17T23:25:00.000-07:002004-06-17T23:29:00.443-07:00well, I haven't written because I'm in mouring.
Yes, my old friend Sucky succumbed to...a lack of algae.
One would think the brain dead guy who inserts food flakes into my bowl would think to put the algae pellets in, too, but he forgot.
So it was my sad and horrifying duty to watch sucky waste away day after day. Oh, I tried to create more and more green stuff on the side of the tank for himMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1081068011719853482004-04-04T00:40:00.000-08:002004-04-04T00:43:48.293-08:00Who can say what's in this guy's head? I've been trying for weeks and weeks to get him to give me a little pal to beat up on in the fishbowl. I've maddogged him through the bowl but he just stares back like I'm some kind of television show. I've even thought of making a message in the rocks, but he'd likely miss it completely.
Oh, the algae eater is okay, but he's not much of a Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1079940282342014852004-03-21T23:24:00.000-08:002004-03-21T23:28:01.983-08:00See? You don't treat me nice, I go silent on you. That's the goldfish's greatest weapon: Silence. Of course, that's the only thing I can do. Not like I'm going to start screaming or anything.
Anyway, the new year started and got all the way into spring before I decided to get the fins slapping on the keyboard again. Did you miss me?
(Really, I get the feeling I'm sending this into the Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1071127437402875282003-12-10T23:23:00.000-08:002003-12-10T23:25:02.326-08:00Listen, I know I promised I would be better about getting to this blog, but things happened. I blame the legislature, myself. If those deadweights had passed my new "borrow $15 million so the goldfish can write in his blog every day" plan you'd be entertained to no end with my observations on life every single friggin' day.
Of course, life doesn't change much when you're looking out a fish Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1068883810779123462003-11-15T00:10:00.000-08:002003-11-15T00:10:40.686-08:00Well, I got one of my wishes. The big guy (not muscle man--he's too busy running the state) finally got the hose out and cleaned the bowl. He does it weird these days. Used to pull me and the other fish out of the bowl, into another bowl of water, then he'd empty the whole thing in the sink and clean the poop out of the rocks.
But I think he's getting lazy. Nowadays he just vaccuums water Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1065670710408875832003-10-08T20:38:00.000-07:002003-10-08T20:38:30.013-07:00So you folks decided your lives were filled with too many dull politicians and you elected muscle guy to be the governor. Can't say as how I blame you. We goldfish, if we could vote, would do so purely for entertainment value, too. Your vote is too precious to waste on the issues.
As for myself, I'm swimming, I'm swimming, I'm eating, I'm eliminating waste...and the fool who takes care of me Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-106528912143603662003-10-04T10:38:00.000-07:002003-10-04T10:38:41.000-07:00Well, this governor thing is almost over and I have to tell you, I'm relieved. No matter who wins--and it looks like muscle guy is going to win just because no one is really paying much attention-- I can't see that your lives are going to be much different. The politicians are with you always.
Still, it's rather funny how blatant muscle guy was in shoving in your tv faces how much he really Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1063520165930196192003-09-13T23:16:00.000-07:002003-09-13T23:16:05.920-07:00Anyway, it gets lonely swimming in the bowl here alone. Excuse me, the tank. I miss Harry sometimes, wonder whether the big guy ever made it to the pond across the way.
What does a goldfish do when he's lonely? I watch a lot of TV, I can tell you. When it's on. I wish the human who owns me would leave the damned thing on all day so that I don't have to swim and swim and swim the same circleMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1062672641422725372003-09-04T03:50:00.000-07:002003-09-04T03:50:41.420-07:00So here I am, watching your little picture box and suddenly all these ugly people are talking about the "governor." From what I hear this "governor" is a fool, an incompetent, crooked and bland and--something that seems to be the greatest sin to your culture--not entertaining at all.
So there's this guy with lots of muscles who says he'll go to Pyschomento and "straighten things out." He Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1060748222844222442003-08-12T21:17:00.000-07:002003-08-12T21:17:02.793-07:00What else did I learn from your little box? Now that my bowl has finally been cleaned ( I guess telepathy worked after all) I can talk about the most dirty thing I see. I'm talking about what you call Politics.
Oh, I know you were thinking about sex. Well, I'm not offended by a naked person. Hey, we goldfish are naked all the time. And when we're in a larger environment, we even spawn, Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-1057450345390582902003-07-05T17:12:00.000-07:002003-07-05T17:12:25.363-07:00So I listened and listened to that infernal machine rattling all the time. I watched the pictures. I eventually learned to understand the human language, the one they call English. And what did I learn about humanity?
First, they all seem to be terribly, terribly full of themselves. How many times have I heard the machine talk about how humans are at the top of nature? We goldfish are at Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-953605362003-06-05T23:47:00.000-07:002003-06-05T23:47:49.513-07:00So what happens to me is that the human forgets to change the water as often as he should. Imagine swimming in the water you have to poop and pee in. No fun, even when the water is changed often. In this case, the water is getting green and murky. This slows us down, as you might imagine. It's like living in downtown LA all the time. and you know how crazy those people are.
Anyway, I was Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-941381532003-05-10T23:26:00.000-07:002003-05-10T23:26:31.193-07:00as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted...
has it really been three months since I last swam by this way? The life of a goldfish is very, very busy. Meetings all day by the fake coral. Gotta make sure we swim around the tank over and over and over and over, just in case we missed something the first time. Gotta watch for predators, though I seem to have lucked out and am not Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-897648412003-02-26T00:01:00.000-08:002003-02-26T00:01:06.500-08:00And then there was one...me.
Harry was gone, off to join Larry and Jerry in that big Aquarium in the sky. And to a gold fish, it's literally in the sky--that place beyond the surface where you know you can't breath but beyond that no one knows. For all I know, Harry could be having the best time in the world, all the food he can eat and all the smaller fish he can chase. But I have the Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-887811762003-02-08T19:09:00.000-08:002003-02-08T19:09:13.540-08:00Now there I was on a suicide watch for my fellow goldfish. I watched him like a hawk, or at least like a shark. I was damned if he was going to jump and leave me alone in the bowl.
For his part, he would eye me languidly, sometimes smiling to himself. I think the old boy really enjoyed this game.
At feeding time I would rush up to feed first, then come back down to the bowl to watch him asMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-877179142003-01-20T00:00:00.000-08:002003-01-20T00:00:29.983-08:00Harry moped around the tank for another week. I was trying to think up things to do to harass him, just to get a rise out of the old boy. I figured that in time he would start to worry about where his next meal was coming from and let Jerry and Larry go. It also worried me that he thought that he, himself, had been poisoned and was on his way out. We goldfish are a game lot, and we've been Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-872867822003-01-11T18:27:00.000-08:002003-01-11T18:27:56.290-08:00Harry seemed to look somewhere beyond the bowl for a moment. I was used to this by now. Harry wasn't all there.
"One day the net came down again. I had learned that the net usually was dangerous, but I learned also from poor Larry's end that to run from it could be as fatal. So I let myself be caught, as did Jerry."
"As usual, we waited in the other bowl and watched as our tank was taken Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-869542972003-01-04T23:59:00.000-08:002003-01-04T23:59:48.896-08:00In the meantime Harry seemed to loosen up a bit. He even deigned to play a half-hearted game of chase the smaller fish with me, though he was too big and heavy to be much of a challenge to me. The tank in those days was bigger than it is now, and it seemed a bit colder, too. Anyway, Harry slowly swam his way out of his gloom.
Which was a good thing. Living with a big fish in a 10 gallon Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-865733462002-12-26T20:09:00.000-08:002002-12-26T20:09:14.436-08:00Hey, what happened? One minute I'm telling you about how Harry was about to unload about Larry and Jerry, the next minute I disappear. That dumb human that keeps me in his living room spilled some egg nog into my bowl--it wasn't even Thanksgiving and here comes this nasty milky nog. Needless to say, I was stunned. You humans might say "Drink like a fish" when you mean someone's alcoholic, butMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-843745702002-11-11T11:06:00.000-08:002002-11-11T11:06:24.880-08:00At this point I admit I'm getting a little frustrated with Harry. Okay, he's a big fish and I'm a small one. Okay, he's been here longer. Okay, he can flip me right out of the bowl if he wants to...well, maybe that last one weighs a little heavier on my mind.
I'm feeling at this point that I want to shake him out of it. I know that a depressed goldfish is a sad sight, but we're only supposedMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-840916152002-11-05T18:04:00.000-08:002002-11-05T18:04:41.173-08:00Wow, have I neglected this blog for three weeks? Well, you know with all the fun of Halloween, I just plumb forgot to get to this. After all, it's not easy typing with my fins. For that matter, keeping the keyboard working inside of this tank isn't easy either.
What does a goldfish do for Halloween? I dressed up as a shark. Scared the hell out of the other fish in the tank.
But I digress.Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-828276542002-10-10T22:08:00.000-07:002002-10-10T22:08:25.253-07:00Harry gave me the silent treatment for about a day. I suppose that's his way of being passive aggressive. I suppose, too, this is his way of telling me that he's not much of a conversationalist.
After the next day's feeding I was hanging in the plastic plant when Harry swam over.
"So this fish hits the floor," he said, without preamble. I know better than to say anything.
"I watched him Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-819725992002-09-22T18:48:00.000-07:002002-09-22T18:48:48.120-07:00So Harry floats there, regarding me with his large black eye. I can tell he's wondering what I'm going to think of what he's going to tell me. I wonder myself. But at least the big guy is finally opening up to me. And the mystery's been killing me.
"For a long time, I was in a small bowl by myself," he started. "Not this bigger tank, but a little one, that went up and down. I was okay withMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-817595192002-09-17T22:20:00.000-07:002002-09-17T22:20:53.003-07:00Has it really been two weeks since my last post? Oh well. You know, goldfish only have a memory that lasts 15 seconds, so it's pretty certain that from time to time I'll...
Uh, what was I talking about?
Anyway, Harry continues to brood in his plastic weeds. From time to time I'll dart over to where he is and hover over him, but he doesn't seem to notice. He doesn't even scan the rocks for Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-810359492002-09-02T09:57:00.000-07:002002-09-02T09:57:44.110-07:00I know I'm just a little fish in a little bowl, and that Harry's definitely in charge. When you're as small and new as I am, you don't make waves. (Not that an acquarium has waves, but you know what I mean)
So Harry broods for another day, coming up only to feed when the light goes on. I notice that the humans who tend to the acquarium will sprinkle this tasty flaky food after the light comesMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-807163842002-08-25T22:12:00.000-07:002002-08-25T22:12:35.446-07:00So now I've got to worry. There were other small fish before me. They're not here now. What happened to them?
I have a vested interest in finding out. If, for instance, Harry tossed them out of the bowl--and don't you believe for a second that this doesn't happen when a big fish gets tired of a little fish dancing around him--then I need to know that and keep well out of the big guy's way. Marknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-804203812002-08-19T00:41:00.000-07:002002-08-19T00:41:37.330-07:00So the big guy's name is Harry, and for the next few days, that's all I knew. I toured the tank several thousand times. Good thing I'm afraid of travelling, otherwise this tank would drive me nuts. Sure, if you're not a goldfish, we always look pretty happy and sedate, floating in the tank, looking at you with glassy eyes and waiting to be fed. But I've known a few fish that couldn't stand toMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-801973182002-08-13T12:20:00.000-07:002002-08-13T12:20:42.780-07:00So for the next few days I'm dodging Moby Goldfish and finding scraps of food here and there. After awhile, I realize he's neither going to eat me nor chase me out of the bowl, so I try to relax a little. But only a little. When you're a fish, you constantly have to keep looking over your shoulder, even though you have no shoulders.
I notice the big fella is moving kind of slow. When you getMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-799992902002-08-08T14:54:00.000-07:002002-08-08T14:54:20.253-07:00Where was I? Oh, the ride home. Or what would become my home. So we get to this smallish house with a bad lawn (hey, even a Goldfish knows when someone needs to do yardwork) and they take me into the house. I hear the large female trying to tell the large male how to put me into the tank. "You need to let the bag sit in the water for 24 hours and don't feed him for a week," she says. I wishMarknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675232.post-796658672002-07-31T18:13:00.000-07:002002-07-31T18:13:13.970-07:00So there I am in the acquarium, hanging with the cool fish. You know, the ones who would smoke if you could light up in an acquarium. The ones who are always chasing the other fish around. The first to be fed, the last to be caught. We are goldfish, hear us roar!
Then these humans show up, the biggest one a rather round fellow with a loud voice. The kid was blonde and blue eyed, cute, but Marknoreply@blogger.com