More fish tales.

In a completely unexpected twist of events, returned home from work today to find Nucky swimming alone in the fish tank. I know this because I spent about 10 minutes staring into the tank, at the gravel, the rocks, the plants, the lone fish and saying to myself, “Are you SURE he’s not in there?” because, geez, where the heck else could he be? After walking away and spinning back to see if he was just playing a crazy joke, fully expecting him to be staring back at me, I decided that yes, Eli was indeed missing. After questioning Nucky regarding his whereabouts (he was in the tank) and activities (he was swimming) it was time to take a look at other possibilities of Eli’s disappearance. Nucky did not kill him, unless he hid the body in the back yard. He was not on the floor around the tank that I could see. There were no signs of wet or struggle. Willow was watching me, but not in a “Oh-crap-she-figured-out-I-killed-the-fish” kind of way. But Eli was missing. Seriously. I put my most logical mind to work. I had fed them both right before I stepped out the door in the morning, and recalled closing the tank lid. They were both in there. So, that meant that someone broke into my house, and in an attempt to terrify me, removed Eli and put his dead body somewhere unexpected. Of course! Heart pounding, I realized the obvious answer. Dead Eli was in my bed. Like Kartoum. Anxiously, with Willow following along, now with a concerned look on her dog-face (hey, it’s the only face she has) I went up to the bedroom. Gingerly, and with one eye closed, I lifted the bed cover up. No fish. Gathering all my resolve, I flipped the whole cover off the bed. Still no fish. Under the pillow. No fish. Instead of relief, my dread heightened. Obviously, my fatal attraction-like stalker was very devious. I headed to the shower. Where else would one be naked and vulnerable while finding a dead pet? It made perfect sense. However, no fish. In either bathroom. Or my underwear drawer. I think it was while I was hanging my head into the washing machine (no fish) that my actual brain took over and said, “Um, what exactly, is going on here?” It was as if someone had flicked a switch. I was acting like a crazy person. Really crazy. Newly sane, I returned to the scene of the crime. With a flashlight. Indeed, Eli had jumped out of the tank. I found him behind the tank stand, wedged between the leg and the wall on top of a very old cat toy. He was pretty well camouflaged, which is why I missed him the first time around. The cat toy he landed on top of, ironically, was a fishing pole with a tuft of yellow feathers which was a favorite of my cat back in the day. It had been completely out of sight. I reached back to grab it by the handle, and pull it out of the way so I could recover Eli’s corpse. Slowly, so as to not disturb Eli, I pulled it forward and lifted it upward, only to discover a very dead, very crispy Eli dried to the feathers. The screaming was epic. I don’t like dead things, especially when they are swinging toward me all dried up and stuck to feathers on a pole I have in my hand. To my credit, I did not drop Eli. Once the screaming stopped, I placed him and the pole into the trash. In honor if Eli, I said a few words, like “Ugh! That was so GROSS!!” tied the bag up and removed it from the house.

In a calmer state, I went back to the scene. Was it fishicide? Premeditated fishslaughter? Only Nucky knows. And he seems to be keeping that to himself. He has his own apartment now, and it’s going to stay that way.