Saturday, August 13, 2011

Warning: "Betta fish killers should be punished," states Regan

I'm a killer. Now I don't mean to be but according to my daughter, that's no excuse. Under some obscure law in Georgia, I deserve to spend time in "solitaire confussment" (aka solitary confinement) because I accidentally left Darth Betta in my car overnight during a cold night in January earlier this year.

It really was an accident. I harbor no ill will toward fish--I don't even eat seafood. I wince when we go into Red Lobster (I'm there for the cheddar bay biscuits) and pass by the lobster tank. Granted my unease has nothing to do with the lobsters' impending death. I just hate seafood. Being forced to eat Mrs. Paul's Catch of the Day fishsticks every Friday for 13 years does that to you.

Well back to the crime of the century. I had a boatload of items in my hand and told myself that I would come back down to the garage to grab Darth. It was almost 24 hours later when Regan happened upon the corpse. Darth was deceptively dead. He looked like he was just hanging out. We shook him and then it happened. He floated to the top looking like an unfortunate squealer from the mob. I nixed the idea of calling 911 or calling the vet.

Instead of flushing the fish like 99.97% of world, Regan insisted we had to bury it. Military honors and prayers. I patted the grave with a trowel and that was the end.

Until today. Phrancis dug up Darth's grave. Maybe she is Frankenstein reincarnated or maybe she is just a ghoul. Regan saw the desecrated grave and promptly insisted upon my immediate punishment.

Please direct donations to my paypal account and mark it as "bail".