...i hope the afterlife isn't run by fish

Elvis has left the building.

Elvis passed away sometime today, after a severe bout of constipation. It's official. I'm a serial killer of Siamese Fighting Fish (Betta splendens).

E was a feisty young male who when we found him he was busy fighting his way out of a paper cup. Now he's just pushin' up the daisies (actually stinking out the wheelie bin). He had been quite bloated, you know, a bit like after you have 6 Coopers Reds and a Rogan Josh. I tried to feed him a green pea the other night, because I read on the net last night that it can cure constipation, and it must be true because its on the net, but he would'nt take a bite. I also read that Bloodworms are bad for Bettas, and he stuffed his face with them a week ago. My bad. I am not worthy.


I blame Q. Elvis was her fish after all. She wanted to buy a fish so one day I took her to the aquarium to buy a fish.

Ooh I like this one
You can't get it. It's a saltwater marine fish.
What about this one?
That one will attack the others.
This one?
That one will get attacked by the others.
I want to get that one.
You can't. It'll eat the plants in the tank.
What about this one?
It needs to be in a big group.
Hmm?
No. It's ugly.
So which fish can I have?
Have a look at these ones.
This one is cute.
It's too expensive. I'm not paying $35 for a fish... unless it's fresh salt and pepper flounder shortly after Happy Hour.
OK. This one.
No. It's Blue. The last one we had, the one that just died was blue.
So, you bastard, are you telling me there is only one fish left in the store that I can buy?
Yes, that is correct.

Good choice. Well done.

I've never lived it down.

.