We just had a ceremony to flush 'pugsy' the goldfish down the toilet. Actually he was black, I called him Norm just for kicks. He'd been kinda quiet for a couple of weeks (the fish not Norm), just bobbing along and never diving to the depths like the other two (actually he does sound like Norm on a metaphorical level). Maybe he was scared shitless of the giant plastic Octopus that my roommate Jim put there, we'll never know.

But today he was floundering around on his side gasping for life like Silver grasping at his dignity. The poor little bugger, I thought about picking him out and ending his suffering with a clever. But I'd never killed anything bigger than a spider before, well nothing I'd admit to, but it would have been a mercy killing. By the time Jim and Canadian Kandy got home he was almost dead but still managed to give us the finger. So we respectfully gathered round the toilet and bid him farewell for the many years of calming service and finger nibbling by throwing him into a dark, cold and stinky grave (still alive and giving the finger). Oh pugsy, how we'll miss you.