Something's Fishy

After several dreams of flopping fish on the floor and unexpected fish sandwiches, I asked Mr. Liu to help me find a fish tank. I wanted a decent-sized one that had a cover and filter. The fewer times I had to go near the beasts the better. The twins had a playdate with one of their classmates on Saturday, so after dropping them off, Katie and I headed to "pet street". Mr. Liu made a couple of phone calls and was told of several stores. We went into three; the first was making them right there in front of his little shop. The tanks were nice, but he didn't have any of the necessaties...ie a cover, filter and BIG net. We found what we were looking for and after a bit of confusion (par for the course) we left with an outfitted tank AND eight more meaty goldfish. I guess my overzealous response was taken as an "Oh, yes, by all means...give me more spawns of satan" instead of what I actually said "Oh, Hell No!" Did I mention EIGHT???!?!? That brought our grand total to a whopping dozen. I was not pleased, but Katie got a huge kick out of seeing her mom freak out again.
Mr. Liu thankfully had paid attention to the owner and helped me set up the tank. Unfortunately, he had to leave before putting the squirmy joys into the tank. The eight in the bag weren't so difficult, except for one, which didn't want to slide out easily. The four in the bowl were tougher. We did get a net, but it's not nearly the size I wanted. It came in the box, so I didn't get to inspect it before we left the store. Probably because I was in shock holding the bag o' fish. They obviously remembered the last time I came near them and they went ballistic. I remained as calm as I could so as to not give any more fodder for the girls and Larry. Slowly, all four made it into their new covered home. I know I'm cruel, but I secretly hoped for some floaters the next day. Nope, all were swimming and, I do believe, smiling at me.
On a somber note, I was mistaken when I thought May had taken the fifth fish and disposed of it. Evidently, early last week (judging from the remains), the poor thing anticipated a torturous future and committed suicide. May was sweeping under the big chair today, which was directly in front of their little bowl. She let out a little "Oh" and pushed the stiff, little guy into the pile of dust bunnies. I screamed like the baby I am and jumped up onto the sofa. I stayed there with my toes and fingers curled up in balls and my eyes squeezed shut until she'd taken the corpse away. I don't think 8000 miles would have been far enough away to shut out the screams if I'd been the one to have found Nemo.