A Fishy Situation

Take your fish back! They give me the creeps! And before you classify this ‘paranoia’ of mine as irrational, let me explain. To me, the fish were never anything other than, well, fish. Their presence kind of went undetected, as that of fish often do. I fed them everyday-ish and occasionally cleaned their tanks, and that was that. But five days ago I noticed something strange. Neither Fin nor Kevin finished their food, even though I had given them much less than Bubbles, who I then helped to a third serving. I would soon find out why. A day later, the remains of fish food at the top of each bowl made an almost perfect number six. At the time, I found this aquatic summoning of the Antichrist rather amusing. Nevertheless, since this event, everything is off. I heard a menacing hum coming from their tanks. I even found cigarette butts near Kevin’s bowl. I generally have a weird feeling that they are always watching my every move with their bulging eyes, as if- “Enough! Cut the crap!” Noa’s pen drops to the floor. One white fin has her in a chokehold and another is holding a semi automatic to her head. "Kevin?! You can, you can-” “Yeah, yeah kid. I can talk. And you can spend two hours on your phone naked. Guess we’re all capable of extraordinary things.” “Where did you get the gun?” One might wonder why this in particular is the second question Noa asked. Practically all of her preexisting knowledge had just been shattered, and this girl’s main concern is the origin of her assaulter's weapon. Then again, in a situation like this, common sense is likely not at its peak. Kevin releases his grip on Noa’s neck. He waddles a few feet over to the bed and proceeds to sit down and light a cigarette. “I bought it at Walmart a few days ago,” he sighs. “But you know, that’s the thing. It’s not like I had to sell an arm and a leg for it,” he says, pointing to his tail. “An average guy like me can just pop into Walmart and buy a Glock, and no one thinks twice!” “They’re probably assuming you won’t use it for the purpose of… this.” “Right, right I get that. But the whole thing is just really dumb. I am literally a fish, and some guy named Brent in Montana deemed me suitable to own a pistol. A fish for Christ’s sake! For all he knows I can show up at some school with a bowl cut and a trench coat and shoot up the place! And when they catch me - if they catch me - I can just use the insanity defense and spend the rest of my days wasting millions of taxpayers’ dollars by receiving free healthcare and whatnot.” There is an awkward pause. Kevin, being a fish, has not exactly been made aware of political correctness. Noa stares at him. “What are you looking at?!” he exclaims. “Nothing, I was just-” “No, you’re right. This,” Kevin strokes his white scales, “is why I can do all this and probably get away with it. Why do you think it’s me and not the other guys? Well, I’ll tell you: Fin over there, he’s orange. Bubbles is blue. Someone catches one of them, they’re dead. I doubt Brent from Walmart will even sell ‘em a Glock. So it has to be me. Don’t take it personally, though. You’re actually pretty nice.” “Thanks.” “Yeah, I’m actually doing this to get at the human species for putting us in fish tanks and stuff. Sometimes violence is the only way, you know? I have no choice.” Noa nods in understanding. “I get that.” “I’m glad you do, kiddo.” He takes another drag and stands

up. “I sort of have to kill you now. Otherwise things will just be weird, right?” At this point, Noa has accepted her fate. “Yeah,” she replies, “that’s fair.” In a swift motion, Kevin pulls the trigger. He flicks his cigarette and watches as the ashes fall on the floor. Then he asks, “Seriously, who names a fish Kevin?”

“‘Fish-Holdup.’” Redbubble , Gentlemenwalrus, www.redbubble.com/people/gentlemenwalrus/works/12697450-fish-holdup?p=t-shirt#&gid=1&pid=3.

*This story is based on true events. Names of people and fish have been changed to protect their privacy.