I used to watch a cartoon when I was younger called Animaniacs. I'm not really sure what kind of animals they were supposed to be...if they were even supposed to be anything at all. Not that they're the ones that are the important allusion here. On this cartoon there was a segment with a cartoon mime...was he a mime? I feel like he was. That, or he was some unfortunate cartoon man that suffered from albinism, or he was an albino, if you will. It would be rather insensitive if the cartoon guy suffered from that disorder, wouldn't it? Anyways, the cartoon albino segment was called, Good Idea/Bad Idea. Or something along those lines. They would cut to a black screen with Good Idea scrawled across it bold lettering, a friendly dad-sounding voice...reminding me much of Danny Tanner (Full House anyone?)...would say something like: "Good Idea: Helping a wrinkly old man with a cane cross the street." Then the cartoon albino would trot an old fella safely across the street at and intersection. The black screen would come back with bright writing. "Bad Idea: Helping a leper cross the street." At the end of Danny Tanner's sentence, the cartoon albino helps a nasty ol' leper across the street, contracting leprosy himself, and both lepers fall into pieces mid-way on the crosswalk. The opposite light turns green and the two men are run over by a city bus filled with knitting grannies.
Okay, maybe that exact scenario didn't play out on the cartoon, but I'm trying to give you the essential idea based on what I'm capable of remembering. This post goes back into the archives of mine and Boyfriend's dating history. As you know, like the average household in Canada, our happy home has two working parents, and 2.5 kids. No wait, that's not us. We live in a cramped toaster oven, with our epileptic Mutt and Fat cat. Just goes to show that all your dreams come true one day. Eat your heart out Cinderella. I was reminded to write this post when Fat jumped onto my desk and stuck her face in my tea. Danny Tanner, if you please. "Good Idea: Rescuing a cat from the animal shelter. Bad Idea: Rescuing a dumb cat from the animal shelter." Asshole move Fat. Time out for you. For the record, we believe in punishment in our house. At least I do. The cat gets a time out in the bathroom, where more often then not I forget about her until my tiny bladder exerts its control over me. Mutt is not so good with this kind of punishment. He's a howler. And a scratcher. And a barker. And so freaking ugly. But I love him. When he does wrong I make him look at himself in the mirror. I may have missed my true calling. Should've been an evil mastermind. Well, I'm always looking for new hobbies. I'll let you know how it goes.
Turn your clocks back a few years people. That's where this story happens. Boyfriend had this huge mother of a fish tank that was in his living room at his old place (circa 2009 or thereabouts). In the tank were three unnamed fish, but we shall call them Gross, Grosser, and Uglier Than Mutt. I'm not into brown fish that look like they lived many years within the confines of a sewage treatment plant. If I have a fish tank in my house it's going to be filled with beautiful salt-water fish that look like they flew in from the most exclusive coral reef in the world. I don't want goldfish, I want diamondfish. I want other jewel-toned fish that are teal, sunset orange, sapphire, chartreuse, lavender, macaroni and cheese. That last one might just be a name for the colour of a crayon. God Bless the creative folks at Crayola. I tip my hat to you.
Now I'm not at liberty to discuss the unsolved homicide investigation, but let's just say that due to unforeseen circumstance, Gross, Grosser and Uglier Than Mutt did not get to make the move with Boyfriend to our apartment. They...well, them ugly fishes are no longer with us. Let's just leave it at that. As you know, Boyfriend and I moved in all his stuff that weighed upwards of forty million pounds (that's how heavy it felt to me anyways), including the fish tank. I, for one, feel it was rather insensitive of Boyfriend to hang a vacancy sign on the fish castle that was inside. CSI hadn't even cleared out when he did that.
The weeks went by with great debate. What was going to happen with this fish tank. I SAY A-BYE-BYE. We don't need no fish tank. Boyfriend, as you know, is a doer. He doesn't like to leave things unfinished. He finds a friend who's shopping around for a home for his dear fishy friend. The conversation with Boyfriend and I goes something like this:
A friend of mine needs to get rid of his fish. We have that empty tank...
What KIND of fish is it? I don't want ugly fish.
It's not...ugly.
What would you call it instead of ugly? Homely? With character? Dull? Endearing in its own way?
It'd be a great conversation piece.
Which means what? It's deformed? Missing an eye so it has an eye patch?
No. It's a piranha. It's tropical like you like.
No piranhas in our house.
Why not?
You know how stupid Fat is. She'd be stoked to go fishing and then she'd lose a paw trying to snatch some freaky sushi.
...
Point Me. Extra points for finding Fat stuck inside the empty fish tank a few days later. She somehow got inside, but couldn't figure out how to exit. It brings me great joy that I know the limitations of her intelligence. At least she didn't think it was some kind of fancy litter box.
We didn't end up getting rid of the fish tank. It's in the hallway and we have two new pets in there. A lobster and a shark. Don't worry, the lobster's in a lobster trap so the shark can't get it. Heaven forbid we put fake animals in danger. For those of you that visited our place prior to our getting these new animals: you remember the former resident that moved into the castle after CSI deemed the ugly fishys' demise a triple suicide, the lizard. Yeah...he wasn't real either. He's also loose in the apartment, so please try not to step on him if you can help it. "Good Idea: Having pets that aren't piranhas. Bad Idea: Having pets that aren't real so friends refer to you as the crazy people with fake pets."
Time for tea,
K
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