{ 12 03 2007 }

The Goldfish Incident.

I’m sorry in advance. Caroline. Please don’t judge me.

Ok, to give them their proper name my first fish of choice were called ‘White moor’. Fabulous little things. Quite portly, with large obtrusive fins which kinda mean they are shit at swimming and ergo, perfect for a girl with an oldskool fish bowl. Lesley and I went to pick them and it was actually very exciting. I’d wanted fish for ages and the shop we went to was like a fish enthusiasts wet dream. Excuse the pun. They had terrapins, newts, prawns, salamanders, fighting fish, pirhanas, sharks and tanks the size of David Blaine. Incredible.

So anyway, I pointed, the wee ned scooped furtively, fucked around with a plastic bag and suddenly I had dependents. Off we skipped back to mine with the sealife, ready to show them their new home (£25) and all was well. Except, of course it wasn’t. You see, the water had been turned off in our street that day and then without much inconvenience, back on again. As I turned on the tap to fill the bowl I noticed that it wasn’t the clearest. Infact to be honest, it almost looked fizzy. So I bailed it out a couple of times, filled it up again and left it to settle. Looked fine after a while, so the little dudes got released…

To Their Long, Agonising Death.

After an hour or so, they were floating on the surface. The first (Bob) had already gone to meet his maker, but the second (Geldoff) was clinging onto the reminants of life, it’s fixed stare begging me to do something. Tesco and Evian thought I. These weren’t ordinary goldfish. They didn’t deserve to swim in Water of Leith pishjuice. I felt horrendously guilty, and started afresh with the good stuff. Didn’t make a blind bit of difference….

Two days later, Geldoff was still sunbathing, unable to eat. Something Had To Be Done. I couldn’t flush him because that wasn’t fixing the problem. His little fishy life had to be terminated. What does one do?

I delicately wrapped his flailing body in loo roll and karate chopped its head, wincing as I did. Then I flushed him.

Huff. That was a fortnight ago and I think of it every day. I feel like even more of a repugnant human than even Ronan Gibson himself. Sorry world. I deserve to come back as something that eats jobbies.

Not Ronan though.

Posted by ms.bean on Monday, March 12th, 2007, at 11:58 pm, and filed under Uncategorized.

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