Tad walked by his fish-tank.
“Got any new ones?” I asked and instantly regretted the good manners my mother had whipped into me.
“Nah, man. I got too many, and they’re kind of breeding now, so I don’t want to introduce a new species that will start eating the little ones.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Well, it’s not like you’re standing here and suddenly there’s a feeding frenzy with sharks gnawing on tuna heads,” Tad defended.
I followed him into his bedroom. “Basically you go to bed at night and when you wake up some of the smaller fish have gone off to see the Big-Fishie-in-the-Sky?”
“Exactly. I mean, there isn’t even any blood. Just the occasional floating fin…they don’t like eating the fins. And you got the mini pool-scooper for that, don’t even have to touch it.”
“Why couldn’t you have gotten a dog?”
“You find me a dog that glows in the dark and I’ll buy one,” Tad said as he started packing his duffle-bag like suitcase with clothes and bathroom supplies.
“With the miracles of science, you never know.”