Wow! Look at all those kids playing in the park. Golly, I wish I had feet – then I would join them in the grass. We’d run around, kick balls and chase each other until we got tired and collapsed on the grass. That would be great. I wonder if my owner would ever take me to the park. Speaking of my owner, I hear him coming.
I turned around in my home – or what you people would call a fish bowl and watched my owner stumble in through the front door. He has a strange way of walking. He never fails to trip over his own feet. The fact that his home is in a mess doesn’t help either. How I wish I was able to help him out!
“Grrr… Remy, those bastards… they fired me… on the second day of work… how am I supposed to pay the rent?”
My owner has a habit of talking to me – even though he knows that I can’t respond. I just look at him and pretend I understand what he’s saying. Sometimes it helps. At least that’s what I think. My owner has cried in front of me. He’s laughed in front of me. He’s told me loads of things.
Like the other day, he was telling me about this girl he met. He thought things were going well, but she stopped replying his messages or answering his calls. He was pretty mad about that, and he punched the wall really hard. It made him bleed. He made a loud noise, like he was laughing. But I realized he wasn’t laughing when he looked at me and some tears fell from his eyes into my home. I wanted to hug him and tell him that it was okay. It was going to be alright. But my silly little fins wouldn’t let me.
I guess today he was having one of those bad days.
“Remy,” he sighed as he poured himself a drink from the kitchen counter. “You’re the only one I can talk to about my problems.” He looked around his shelf for something else to add to his drink. A mixer? Which was pretty odd since he usually took his drinks neat – or on the rocks. Without warning, my owner swiped the glass of alcohol off the counter, which fell to the ground. It shattered, spilling its contents everywhere.
“Fuck!”
This wasn’t the first time he had displayed such behavior. It would be a few days before he cleaned up the mess – it was going to take a cut on his foot by a hidden glass shard to set him off but until then –
“Fuck!” said my owner as he fell back onto the ground, grabbing his foot with his hands.
I guess this clean up was going to happen sooner than later.
“Remy! Why am I doing this? What’s wrong with the world?”
This world is great, what are you talking about? I’m glad for my existence. I’m happy I have such a great owner like you! Please don’t be discouraged. We all have bad days – they teach us to appreciate the good ones. Of course, he didn’t hear me. Especially not over the ‘sssh’ and ‘ahhhh’ sounds he was making on the floor.
“I’m so done with this life, I’m going to go back to my father!”
Shit. He rarely speaks about his father. I guess he must be having a really bad day. I watched my owner get up and limp over to the kitchen counter again. He dug through his cupboards for another glass. Just as he was about to pour himself another glass, he decided not to and lifted the bottle to his lips instead. He drank from it for about ten seconds.
What are you doing? The drink seemed to have calmed him down considerably as he stopped wincing and made his way to the living room. I couldn’t see what he was doing since there was a wall blocking my view, so I could only imagine he was lying down on the couch.
“Remy! It’s time.”
Time for what? My owner’s behavior puzzled me. I had never seen him act like this before.
He popped back into view, holding in his hand an object I had never seen before.
“You know what this is?” he said as he walked towards me, the object held in front of him.
Nope. It was longish, like some sort of silver box. He seemed to be holding it by its base, which extended downwards from the end of the box.
“You see, Remy, this is a gun.”
A gun? I’ve heard of those things before but I have yet to see one in person. At least not until today.
“These things… they’re great. They solve all of life’s problems.”
How so? How does that work?
“You know, Remy – all this while, I have been pretending to be deaf to your words. I can actually hear you. Every word you say. Fortunately for you, you’ve been saying nothing but good things, so it pains me to have to do this.”
Do what? I was feeling a bit spooked out. Could he really hear me?
“This.”
My owner reached into the tank and grabbed me. He pulled me out and laid me on the table next to my home.
Holy fuck. What the hell was he doing?
“Just kidding. I don’t know what the hell is going on in that small fish brain of yours.”
Phew! But wait – put me back in the water, please? I felt like a fish out of water on the table. My gills were feeling heavy and starting to collapse. I was having trouble breathing. My body started to thrash around. Why are you doing this to me?
“Remy. I know you’ve been there for me ever since I brought you home. You’re my best friend. I love you. But I can’t go on anymore, and I want you to be with me. Forever. I won’t leave you. I can’t. I won’t abandon you. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
I didn’t catch half the words he was saying, my surroundings were beginning to blur and fade. I felt my owner pick me up and push me into his mouth. Or at least that’s what I hoped it was.
I then felt the gun push me further into his mouth. The sound of a loud explosion was the last thing I heard.
Writing Prompt from Reddit: You are a gold fish. You like to watch the world outside the bowl. Your owner is a lunatic, but you dont know what insanity is; you’re a simple little gold fish.