Die, Fishy, Die

With her eyeballs wide open, Greta was watching television on her couch in cold comfort when her balmy existence was turned upside down as the man of the house walked in. Their home was tastefully decorated, it should be mentioned, with a certain artistic panache. He, her lover, friend and husband, glanced over at his dilatory wife. Their eyes met. At that laborious moment they were both overcome, for just a second, by how much they legitimately loathed one another. She gave him a sarcastic smirk as she inelegantly chewed on s'mores and slowly directed her eyeballs to the television set.

He breaks the silence. "Traffic is just getting worse. I was cut off five times today."

Keep in mind this is all here say. For all we know he cut off six people himself. For the sake of this horrible story we must assume he is telling the truth.

Greta ignored his lament. "I'm having a hard time at work. I may have to quit," he said with his back turned to her as he walked away. Rather than bite her bitter lips she answered with a blunt remark. " Well, you'd better shape up 'cause I am not going to live with no deadbeat." It was then the steam shot out of his salient ears. You could also hear something snapped in him. It sounded like a twig.

"It's always about you, isn't it? Never about me!" he sobbed into his hands. "You never cared for me or my dreams!"

His wife met the opening of his heart with a stoic roll of the eyes. "Stop steaming. You're fogging up the windows."

"Don't push me, Greta!"

She did not heed the warning and provoked him with a "What are you going to do?" look. She then added, "You're weak and you're pathetic. I shouldn't even fuck you anymore. I should fuck that friend of yours. Now there's a real man."

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Once upon a time they were the most envied couple created out of bigamy among their friends and colleagues. But something disappeared long ago. Time can corrode the best worthless intentions.

Suddenly and without warning, in a moment of natural rage, he took hostage of her fish bowl. The bowl included 3 gold fish and a special little black gold fish called Montgomery. He took whatever he knew she loved.

Writer's Note: Montgomery was Arnold's favorite pet black gold fish on Diff'rent Strokes. I don't know why I chose to honour him. Not Arnold; the fish.

"You always loved this savoury submerged species more than me!" This was clearly a broken man. What man could possibly consider describing goldfish as savoury?

"Honey, p-put the fish down. We can talk this out. But I can't concentrate with you holding that toothpick!"

"You don't want to talk. You just want to shut me up. I swear. I'll stab them one by one."
"You wouldn't have the balls you gutless ferry."

It was a poor diplomatic move on her part. He picked one off clean. It jittered on the stick for a few seconds and died. "Die, fishy, die," he yelled in a cold sweat. His parents often expressed concern but his German was just fine. Staring at her lifeless fish filled Greta with dread as she screamed in disbelief. She thought about dandelions. She's always loved dandelions as a child. She also realized that she forgot to thaw sausages for supper.

"I will place their heads before me just as Vlad the Impailer had done," her husband giggled. It is safe to say that the lascivious part of their lives was now gone.

The absurdity, the horror and madness was too much for Greta to accept. "You will pay. So help me, God."

"God? God? What do you know about God? Fool! You have no soul. You're Catholic!"

"And you're a murderer!" Greta shouted.

"Murderer? Against these pointless things?" He grinned and looked at her. He stabbed another. "They are under the law. No one can convict me of any crime here. It's not my fault. I will deny everything. No court would rule against me!"

Greta called the police nonetheless. You can hear the laughter on the receiver from where he stood. He looked at her with a satisfactory smile. She came back dejected and with her head bowed. "Please don't."

"Things will change 'round here. I want a plane and $200 000. Go to the bank"

She stared at him curiously. " He yelled, "Now!" "But..." Just then, she realized he was losing his mind. "And bring back some bacon bits!" he bellowed off the top of his lungs,

But what was Greta to do? He was holding fish, of all insignificant things, hostage. He wanted Greta to withdraw his own money from the bank? How will she sign, as it wasn't even a joint account? Does he even have $200 000?"

The stark brutality of the whole moment was too much for her. She let out a yelp and stuck a toothpick that was used to kill one of the fish in her neck. The blood squirted out but it was not enough to kill her. In her pain, she noticed him talking to the fish. He was now building a castle with some legos. A feeling of faint overcame her. Greta's face and neck swelled. She was having an allergic reaction! She was suffocating. He scarcely noticed. She fell to the ground...and died! How tragic!

The thump jostled his mind back into reality. He was filled with sudden anguish. 'But I loved her! Why must you do this God? Why?! I denounce you, damn you!" He killed off every other fish, including Montgomery. "Now to finish this act."

He quietly turned and left to end his own life discreetly. An existence of eternal pain waited him in hell. Montgomery lay listlessly floating. What was that? Oh my, eggs! Montgomery had been pregnant! A new generation of black goldfish had been hatched among the carnage. Will these fish inherit the madness? Will they be mutant fish who talk and walk? No one will ever know for sure. Unless.....