October 22, 2007

A Gold Fish's Account of the Previous Story

          He hasn’t fed me today. What a bonehead. He’s been sitting in that chair for hours now. I wonder what he’s doing. Who cares? Not me; I don’t care. I just want to be fed, and maybe have this tank cleaned a bit too. You know, he used to clean the tank nearly every other day—not now. He even used to talk about getting some of those algae sucking fish. I wasn’t so sure about the idea before, but now it doesn’t sound so bad. Boy, they’d have a ball in here. Nope, it’s not like it used to be.

What is he doing? Maybe he’s dead. No, he’s not dead. He moved his arm a second ago; at least I think he did. It’s hard to see in here. Maybe he is dead. Even if he was, what difference does it make? I don’t care either way. I don’t need him. I’ve got everything I could possibly need right here in this tank.

I can’t believe he’s dead. I wish I could’ve said goodbye. Should I pray for him? I should. It’s the least I can do—after all he’s done for me. I can’t believe he’s dead. Alright here it goes. Dear God, today we mourn the loss of Bob. He was a good man—a man who cared about fish. I loved Bob, but in your infinite wisdom you took him. Why!? Why did he have to go so soon!? I’m sorry, I get emotional. It’s just so hard.

What should I do? This tank is so lonely. I can’t go on. I’ll end it right now. That’s what Bob would’ve wanted. Don’t worry; I’m coming, Bob! Shoot, how am I going to do this? The water is really shallow, and there’s barely anything inside here. Damn this infernal tank!

Woe is me. Maybe I’m already dead. It’s probably true. I just didn’t know it before. I died and God sent me to my own personal Hell—a dirty tank with no food or friends. What did I do to deserve this? I wonder who I was before. Maybe I was Elvis. Yeah, I think I was Elvis. Did I choke on a ham-sandwich—wait no—that was someone else. That’s good; I’m glad I didn’t choke on a ham-sandwich. I think it’s so cool that I used to be Elvis. It all makes sense now.

I think he just moved. Yeah, he definitely moved. He’s alive! I’m confused. Does this mean I wasn’t Elvis, and that this isn’t Hell, and that I haven’t died already? Yeah, I think it does. It’s good that Bob’s not dead. I really lost it there for a while, but I feel a lot better now.

He’s not getting up. I thought he was going to get up. What a bum! He better feed me soon, and this tank is still all dirty. I’m starting to get upset again.

- One comment Not publicly viewable

  1. Fantastic. I love the way the goldfish seems to change his mind completely or convince himself of something solely to combat his slightly boring and frustrating existence. Early on he says the tank is everything he needs but then it becomes an ‘infernal hell’. My favorite part apart from “Does this mean I wasn’t Elvis” was the transition from paragraph 2 to 3. Just as it seems our philosophical fish is dealing with the idea of death quite well he seems to forget what he has said instantly. The way ideas get followed up as soon as they are dreamt up make this highly entertaining, (“Maybe I was Elvis. Yeah, I think I was Elvis.”) what a shame it gets cut off at the end…

    23 Oct 2007, 00:10

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