Friday, July 28, 2006

Of food or friend.

Stinky tried to eat Biggie tonight. I was sitting at my computer when I heard a loud splash in the aquarium. Startled, I looked over to tank to see the turtle with his mouth clamped down around the massive goldfish. He had gotten a hold of Biggie’s right side and the fish was thrashing to get away. I jumped from my chair and raced to separate the two. I shoved Stinky’s the floating rock down on him and pressed repeatedly in hopes he would let Biggie loose from his grip. A few seconds later, Stinky let go. As I held the turtle down, Biggie slowly drifted away, tilting on his side and floating to the top of the tank.

I never expected anything like this to happen. Stinky had coexisted with the two goldfish, Biggie and Buster, for years. I should have known better. After all, I bought them to be food in the first place.

I used to feed Stinky fish on a regular basis. I’d stop by the pet store and buy ten guppies or rosy-reds for a buck and plop them in the tank for Stinky to snack on as he pleased. He’d wait at the bottom and snatch one up as it swam by, pulling it inside its mouth and swallowing it whole. After a week or so, the fish would all be gone, and I’d go off to the store for another batch of feeders.

One day, I noticed that one fish had found a notch behind the filter and had decided to hide there. Weeks went by, dozens and dozens of fish came and went, but he still remained hidden away in his little hole. And he was growing. One day he had grown so large that he couldn’t fit in his hiding place anymore, but it didn’t really matter – he couldn’t fit in Stinky’s mouth anymore either.

I named him Biggie.

Soon, another fish followed suit, likewise surviving to outgrow Stinky’s gaping mouth. I named him Buster.

The two were nice and large, and they could swim around the tank without having to worry about being gobbled down. Stinky would still occasionally try to snatch one in its jaws, but the two had grown too large to be caught.

Unfortuneately, over time, turtles grow too. As do their mouths.

Now Biggie had been attacked, and was floating at the surface of the water. I was sure he was dead. He struggled to flip himself over and managed to right himself up. He sank to the bottom of the tank. He was alive and moving, but barely.

I dug out an old aquarium from storage, filled it with water, and placed Biggie in it. I looked him over. His right fin was torn to shreds. A large red spot had formed on his side. His tail would float to the top of the water while his head would sink to the bottom. He couldn’t even manage to open his mouth anymore. He was in bad shape.

I didn’t know anything I could do for him. All I could do was put Buster in the tank with him to keep him company.

Before, I used to sit and watch the two swim together at night. They’d zip back and forth in the aquarium, side by side the entire time. They’d swim up against each other, flowing in and out of each other’s fins and tails. It was almost as if they were dancing.

Now all Biggie could do was lay there broken on the gravel floor, barely able to move. Their dancing days may have been over, but still Buster floated there next to him, never leaving his side.

If Biggie doesn’t make it, I don’t know how Buster will handle it, having to dance alone.

Monday, July 24, 2006

What the mother?

Apparently, my mother has known about my site for quite some time and, for all I know, may be reading it at this very moment.

Hi, Mom. Please excuse the s-words, f-words, and discussions of my sex dreams. 

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Fatigued and funky.

It’s 4am, and I just got back from Brian’s bachelor party. I’m exhaused and can stil smell the whipped cream up my nose. I’d pass out right now if I didn’t feel so disgustingly dirty. I’m off to shower. I guess it’s my turn to get naked. 

Friday, July 7, 2006

A chat over Cheetos.

Last week I sat next to a cute girl on the train on my way home from work. She had brown hair and white sneakers and was eating from a small bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. I really wanted to talk to her, but I’ve never been a brave boy. I have a hard enough time starting up a conversation with someone I know, let alone a complete stranger. A complete cute stranger.

I wondered if there was possibly a way I could introduce myself in a way that would pique her interest enough for her to actually want to have a conversation with me. I came up with an idea in my head:

I would smile at her and say hi and politely ask her if I could have one of her Cheetos. She would look back with an odd and slightly amused look at the unusualness of the request. I’d tell her that I was extremely busy at work that day and hadn’t managed to eat a bit of lunch and just a single flaming cheese crunch would surely tide me over until I got home. Then I’d give her the puppy-eyed look and a little “Please?” She’d smile at me and offer me the bag, and I’d reach in and grab a single little piece. I’d nibble it down and thank her for her generosity. I’d tell her my name and she’d tell me hers and we’d talk all the way to my stop.

I went over it in my head again and again. I really thought it might just work. I built up my confidence and finally convinced myself I could do it. Finally, I looked over to her to give it my all just as she finished off her last Cheeto, folded up the bag, and put in in her backpack.

I was completely depressed all the way home, sitting there wishing I could have talked to her. And hungry for a Cheeto.

Tuesday, July 4, 2006

I like my women REALLY exotic.

I finally broke my sex-dream drought the other night. I was with a blue-skinned woman in a tattered leather bikini. That’s what I get for watching sci-fi before going to bed.

I’m not complaining, though. Alien lovin’ is better than no lovin’ at all.