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Thursday, July 30, 2009

Love Child


My goldfish died today. One would think that such an event would seem insignificant and meaningless to an 18 year old girl, but I wept. Literally wept. Hubert Cumberdale was a noble little creature. He didn't require much, just clean water, oxygen, food, and a little attention now and then. Today was the hottest day of the year thus far. It was 101 degrees. Needless to say, goldfish in large chemistry beakers cannot withstand heat. His death was discovered after dark, and my mom was kind enough to bury him in the yard; I thought he deserved more than a flush. A replacement was required in short order, I enjoy taking care of small water bound creatures.

So at about 10pm Hannah drove over and we made a trip to wal-mart (I don't generally shop there, but it is the only place that one can procure fish after 10pm). We had gotten Hubert there at 1am one night after painting a room (eggplant and ethnic yellow, just to clarify). A sketchy man- probably on meth, judging by a pitiful lack of teeth- helped us net him out of the large blue-green tank that teemed with goldfish. He was purchased and poured into his cylindrical tank in the parking lot. The cylindrical tank was later replaced by a 4000 ml chemistry beaker that I discovered in the China Cabinet. This container I brought with me on our most recent trip. Bottom full of colourful marbles and filled about halfway with fresh water, I carried it to the fish section.

The Mexican man working there hit on us. It was moderately awkward. I selected 6 particular fish and a small fiddler crab from the wall of scummy tanks. We told the man the story of Hubert Cumberdale, and he was intrigued. An air stone and filter were also purchased, and we wheeled our band of replacements to the checker, stopping to try on souvenir fish hats and snap a few photos. The fish were purchased, and we poured them into the beaker in front of the store, dumping excess water on the gaudy faux red brick pavement area. The bags were disposed of in the nearest receptacle. We then clamoured back in Hannah's car, making sure to keep Barron- her new dingo dog- securely in the back as he licked at us affectionately.

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