alliancea

[alliancea]

Introductions I have with everyone.

Me: Howdy!

Potential Friend: Oh... Hey!

Me: Did you know I am a single mother of three children? One is transgender and the other two are incestuous for each other. I'm so proud! Also, do you know that by being lazy, you are saving the universe from an eternal thermodynamic equilibrium that would cease life EVERYWHERE?! Hehe, us procrastinators are heroes. OH, also, did you know that I'm called the "Notebook Reaper" 'round these parts? Well..

Not Potential Friend Anymore: Um.. *death by weirdness*

Me: Huh? What's wrong? *realisation and social anxiety kicks in* Oh, Ohhhhhhh.... I'll just... Um...

Corpse: Bleh...

Me: *scurries off with dust tail behind*

[alliancea]

The Curious Incident Of The Goldfish at Christmas...

With the reference intended, this peculiar story is about the tragedy, the uppermost missed departure of George, the minuscule gold speck of a creature that somehow died (probably) a few days before Christmas. But, before explaining his death, a little back story is required.

My mother got three fish one day during early 2015; three goldfish to be specific. My little brother got to name two of the goldfish, and I named one, because of the stereotypical-but-still-prevalent concept of favoritism. Or the fact that he was younger. Probably both. I named mine Chelsea because that was what I wanted to be called at the time now, and my lil bro named his Peppa and George, after the masterpiece called Peppa Pig. They were swimming as happily as a caged fish could swim.

Peppa died. My brother cried. No one else really cared.

Due to his whining, mum finally got another fish - not a goldfish, mind you, but a catfish. Me and my madre’s boyfriend called him Dracula! It was because we realised that catfish eat goldfish, so we made the joke of the catfish sucking the goldfishes’ blood. It wasn't too much of a concern for us though, as he was a bottom feeder.

Now to the “curious” part of the story - a couple of days before we discovered the dead pig-fish, my bird (a cockatiel named Sparkle) started crying for no apparent reason, and nothing could calm him down. And the sound! It sounds like a little girl being threatened with a knife! To her plush teddy bears! It is not a sound I wish to hear again for the rest of my short life span...

Christmas was “fun” - getting up early, socialising with my family, forced to go outside to visit more family... yeah. Fun. The presents were neat though. However, as I was fiddling with my new phone like a 66 year old techno-dinosaur trying to understand Python, I vaguely glance over to see only two fish. Ok.

Wait... Weren’t there three?

I look all around the tank. Which one’s missing? Why is it missing? Was it abducted by our alien overlords? Did it become our alien overlord? Will it take revenge on me for keeping it in captivity? ...

Mother and her boyfriend were looking as well for a solid five minutes, before this happened:

“Jordan, I... uh... found him?”

Then all I see behind the massive tank decoration/monument/castle made out of plastic was the tiny skeleton of George. All of his flesh had been striped clean off his bones, as they were the only remainder of his physical existence...

I posted it on Snapchat. It only got 21 views.

But then my theorist mind began to ponder and ponder. Did Dracula really such his blood? Did Chelsea (who is obese) join in on the scoffing? Did they have some sort of tag team going on against George? Looking back, he probably died of natural causes, and Dracula ate him afterwards, because decomposing bodies are a part of Dracula’s diet. That’s not what I told everyone else though.

My brother got so traumatised that we sold Chelsea and Dracula with the tank for £20.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was The Curious Incident Of The Goldfish At Christmas!