Before we begin, I’d like to set the mood for this sad, sad post about failed friendship, death, and nobody noticing with a little music from the 60’s.
First, we have Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles. Eleanor Rigby met a sad and lonely end…one where nobody came and nobody was saved *sniff.*
“Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Father Mckenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved…”
Next up, we have That’s What Friends Are For, featured in the movie The Jungle Book. Words to keep in mind as you read further about the tragedy of failed friendship:
“We’re your friends
We’re your friends
We’re your friends to the bitter end…”
My most recent fish mishap was caused by the light bulbs in the tank burning out. I placed the burned-out bulb in my car so that I’d see it every day and remember to purchase a replacement while running errands. Turns out, good intentions don’t mean jack shit. That damn burnt-out bulb hung out on the seat of my car for like two weeks. There were days when I truly forgot about it. It was like the bulb had just become another common car-feature. Just one more easily overlooked detail like the steering wheel, the door handle and the 2,734 Cheddar Bunnies that litter the floor. Other days, I was just too tired and lazy to put the car into park, exit the vehicle, lock it, walk into a store, find the light bulb isle, find the specific bulb and purchase it.
Which meant that my plecostomus, four neon tetras and two guppies lived completely in the dark. For two weeks. I mean, I still fed them and everything but I wasn’t exactly diligent about checking up on them, asking how they were doing and making sure they were all getting along. In hindsight, this was a mistake.
Finally, one day, I decided that I wanted to say the words “Let there be light!” out loud to my little fish friends. I suspect that, to them, I am already God-like and therefore should bless them with the ability to see their food, me, and one another. So I purchased a bulb, screwed it into the socket thingie and lit up their little world. And realized that two of them were missing. As in gone. Not floating on the top, not caught in a plant or in the filter. Just gone. Poof. Vanished.
Their absence was completely confounding to me. While I realize that living in the dark for two weeks is not ideal, it’s not like they could escape to find more suitable living conditions, right? So basically that leaves me to theorize that one or more of my fish ate their little buddies while we weren’t paying attention. Talk about betrayal. It’s like you’re just swimming along, hanging out, having a conversation and your best buddy decides that you’re lunch. And that your brother is dinner. WTF. So I ask you – do fish feel sad when they eat their friends?
I’m linking up today with my good pal Jen over at My Skewed View (formerly Break the Parenting Mold) for Twisted Mixed Tape Tuesday!
Wanna link up with us? Enter your post below and happy Tuesday!