It all began with one small fish…a goldfish to be exact. It was love at first sight and my dear brother was smitten with the big bonny, beady eyes and the golden, flowing, spectacular robe of…err, let’s call her Goldilocks. And thus, began the love affair.
Goldilocks (the Queen, if you please) was put into a large aquarium—artistically designed, along with all the accompanying paraphernalia (befitting Her Majesty, oh gawdie), such as rocks, pebbles, gravel, shells, ferns, etc—and proudly placed in our home. La-di-da.
My besotted sibling devoted meticulous care to Goldie (as he oh-so lovingly called her), feeding her at regular times, and ensuring that the filter was in proper working order.
Then, brother dear decided to add more fish.
“The more the merrier!” he happily declared, as he watched the whole school swim hither and thither, and helter-skelter, above and below, behind and in front of the flora and fauna.
This scenario carried on for months. Brother
madly doted on his fish. Yet, sadly, a couple of them died. Aww. RIP.
Sometime later, my brother had to travel out of town. So the shiny sheriff’s badge was pinned on me. The onus weighed heavily upon my delicate shoulders. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least. I was like a cat on a hot tin roof, with no appetite for fish.
But I bore the responsibility well. With pride, I can say that I worked above and beyond the call of duty. Fanfare please.
Religiously, I fed the fish on time. And I kept an eye on the filter, the temperature control and the lighting. But, oh dear, no matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t stop some fish from kicking the bucket. Sigh.
In fact, some mornings I’d dread looking at the aquarium for fear of seeing another dead body floating there, with eyes open, bulging out, looking wild, staring at me in a most accusing manner. Eww.
Brother dear returned home immediately when informed of the so-called tsumani-like situation, but then bossily behaved like Sherlock Holmes in search of the killer of his…err, fish. Needless to say, all fingers were pointed at me. Alas.
men fish tell no tails tales’ as goes the old saying and I was banking on that. Darn.
Therefore, today, only four fish remain, namely, Tom, Dick and Harry, along with Goldie—whom I have now renamed Snow White, Snowy for short.
Why? Well, because, miraculously, her colour changed from golden to a pale white.
Why and how? Dunno. Don’t ask me. I’m no expert on fish…in case you didn’t know.
But one thing I certainly do know is that Snowy is a very sturdy fish—gills, scales, fins and all—and she swims and even sings her way about in the aquarium…
Well, only last night when all was quiet and everyone had gone to sleep, I heard her sing her favourite song, ‘I will survive’…and in such a powerful voice that Tom, Dick and Harry, visibly shaken, went pronto scuttling, rather timidly, behind the rockery, and, very wisely, stayed there. Haha.
What? Believe not, you say? Well, actually, I knew this would be your reaction so that’s why I recorded her singing…so just listen…and enjoy!
Maloquacious © 2012