The Aquarium Apocalypse

This was the day my ex-girlfriend said she was going to call me to talk about some stuff that needed talking about. We settled on a common time to talk. It was written on the calender.

While I was waiting for the phone to ring, I noticed something. My aquarium has a slow leak in it. So slow I didn't even catch it until I saw that the table it sits on is becoming a little warped. I felt guilty immedately, because I don't spend as much time with my fish as I should.

I decided that I would, that day, spend some time gazing into my aquarium. "How are you today, Fish?" I asked.

They didn't answer.

I repeated the question, until finally one little parrot fish swam to the edge of the glass and glared at me with her left eye. "Our world is dying," she said in haunting tones. She then swam off into the castle, where the other fish were gathering.

They were in there for quite some time. I couldn't make out what they were saying, or if they were speaking at all. They are fish, after all, not Texans.

Finally one of them, a tiger-striped Neptune fish, swam furiously out of the meeting, and spun around in circles. Another Neptune came out to meet it, and it appeared as if the two were speaking. The first fish began to calm down, and the two went off together.

Later, the others exited the castle in a rush. They all began to pick at the aquarium plants, cutting them down and moving them to the base of the little chest that shoots bubles into the air.

I had never seen fish behave like this before so I thought maybe they were hungry. I threw a little food into the top, and they all swam furiously to the surface-even the Neptune fish. To my surprise, none of them ate the food. The Neptune fish carried it to a little corner, and the others placed it with the plants before the treasure chest.

I was about to grab the video camera when the phone rang. It was my ex-girlfriend, and she immediately starts asking about the money I owe her. She starts talking about how we said we'd still be friends and all this, and how maybe we could still be more than that, if I just figured out what the hell I want out of life. I tried to talk to her and watch the fish at the same time and when she asked why I was so distracted I even tried to explain the thing to her, but it wouldn't take. She thought I was screwing with her.

The Neptune fish were knocking down the castle and the others had formed some strange synchronized dance around the treasure shest, weaving in and out of it's bubbles.

Meanwhile, the leak was getting worse. I could see the water mark lowering. Something was going down.

I went to the sink for water to add to the tank, but then the ex starts harping at me about why can't I just listen to her and this is important to her, and her-her-her. So I shut myself in the next room, away from the aquarium, and really made an effort.

We ended up tlaking for close to two hours, and everything was easy and soft and wonderful just like it always was. There was still no chance we'd ever get back together, so in a way I had just spent two hours poisoning my heart with false promises.

When I returned to the living room, I had forgotten all about the strange events of the aquarium. Then my socks touched something wet (which I HATE). The sight I saw was so bizarre I almost cried. If John Williams had been scoring it, I probably would have. The leak had stopped and left about four inches of standing water. All of the fish except the Neptunes were floating on the surface. Some were cut to ribbons but I'd bet that the cause of death was the same for each of them: overeating.

The way I figured it was like this: They stored up the food, and one of them gorged himself. The others then ate off him unmtil they were all dead.

Mass suicide.

The Neptunes were nowhere to be found. Not even skelatons. Had they somehow escaped the mass hysteria that had taken the lives of all my pets? The castle was gone, as was the little diver's helmet.

Maybe I would never know.

I went to the bathroomto get some towels. On the way I stepped on something wet and heard plastic break. I looked down and saw the two Neptune fish. One was impaled by a piece of plastic castle, the other was flopping about frantically. Apaprently they had built some exomarine vehicle that I had just demolished. I picked up the flopping fish, the last survivir, as his little gills were gasping for air. Through his frantic heasing he spoke one word: "Comode."

I delived him there. He gave me a look of gratiude. Or was it hatred for killing his best friend? Hard to tell; it was a fish, after all, not a Texan.

With a salute, I gave him a flush. And that was that.

But I wonder: why the comode? Did he see it as a way to empty out into a larger body of water? Was that were they were planning on escaping to all along? Or was his pain and grief so great that he sent me on a mercy killing? I may never know.

I wonder if the guy at the fish store would refund my money if I told him the fish he sold me were superstitious acolytes with an armageddon complex. Probably not.