I guess I just don’t have good luck with fish though. So it’s probably for the best that I’ve only ever been fishing once. A few years ago I thought it would be a good idea to get a few pet fish. I liked the idea of getting stoned and staring at them for hours every night. I needed a new hobby. I started telling everyone I talked to about how much I wanted pet fish and how amazing it would be. I acted as though I was letting people in on some incredible secret I had stumbled upon.

Eventually, after telling enough people, my friend Darren told me that he had a fish tank and some fish. Coincidentally, he had been trying to get rid of them. He couldn’t find anyone to take them. I couldn’t believe my luck. I asked him how much money he wanted. He said I could have them for free. He said he would bring the fish and the tank by my house in a few days. I wanted to kiss him on the mouth.

He came by two days later. We cleared out a spot on top of my mini fridge and set the tank up there. It didn’t really fit. Both sides hung off the fridge by a couple inches, or more. That was fine with me. We cleaned out the tank a little, then we filled it with water. He taught me how to care for the fish. He taught me everything I needed to know about them. Mainly how often to feed them and how often to clean their tank. There were five fish. We smoked a joint, then he got up to leave. I thanked him for bringing this gift into my life. I thanked him for his generosity. I meant my thanks. He left.

I spent the rest of the night smoking from my bong and slowly sipping beer, while staring at the fish. They were amazing. They were everything I had imagined them to be. Almost. I mean, it was a little anticlimactic after how much I had hyped them up, in previous days. But they were still pretty sweet. I stared at them all night, only getting up to use the bathroom. I fell asleep just before sunrise. Content.

I woke up the next morning. I wiped my eyes. I got up and went to the bathroom. I took a piss. I brushed my teeth. I came back into my room. I packed the bong and sat down. I smoked it and looked at the fish tank as I blew out a milky cloud. There was one fish swimming around. Four fish were dead. I should have seen this coming. This is life. That day I gave the fish and the tank to my stepbrother. Fuck fish.





BIO: David Catney is a writer from Ontario, Canada. Look him up on twitter or something, if you want.