Tragedy

Yesterday we picked up a companion for Seaweed, our much-loved but lonely Betta Fish. A gorgeous prussian blue with tail and fins every bit the equal to its glamorous name, Blue Moon was welcomed into the fold (in spite of Seaweed's ailing health; an almost certain by-product of the unending love delivered in the form of, perhaps too regular, feedings).


Today ... Seaweed died.

Seaweed's passing was the first termination of life truly felt by Alien 1, and production was temporarily called to a halt while we all mourned. Alien 1 wrote a short poem that we read during the service:

Seaweed was dead and he died.
Seaweed was here and was swimming.
He was dying and he was dead.
I loved Seaweed.




With firmer nerves, Alien 2 tipped Seaweed into his liquid grave and pulled the handle to flush him to the other side.

Tomorrow we shall have some fun again. I think we might build a chair for Robin's apartment.

Somberly Yours
Ruthless Whims