Cleaning day in the tank
Today was Tank Cleaning Day, which, in human terms, is roughly equivalent to winning the spa lottery while also getting a home renovation. Most fish would panic. Brian? He did three victory laps around his castle and practiced his ‘I’m so innocent, I would never spit out my food at the glass’ face.
The transfer to the backup bowl was smooth, if a bit degrading. ‘Temporary housing,’ Mark cooed.
In short time Brian was returned to his watery paradise. Fresh water, crisp and cool, he swirled in his domain like a liquid symphony. He darted through it, tasting the absence of yesterday’s flakes. ‘Ah, purity,’ he thought, ‘you taste like regret and filtered optimism.’
But the real showstopper? The castle. Oh, the castle. Mark had upgraded it. New turrets. More passageway. Brian spent twenty minutes testing each new crevice, imagining he was a tiny, scaly James Bond evading laser grids.
Mark tapped the glass. ‘Looking good, buddy.’ Brian blew a bubble in response. Looking good? I’m a god in a gilded sea.
Now, floating in his pristine palace, Brian pondered life’s big questions: Will there be pellets tomorrow? Can I trust the plastic plant in the corner? Is ‘Mark’ actually a giant, hairless fish? He flicked his tail. Answers would come. Or they wouldn’t. Either way, he had a big new castle to patrol.