Meatball, not MeatWad. Two different guys people.

Like this. Only way smaller. And dirtier.

I have a problem with purchasing normal-sized pets that become mutant-behemoth pets. They’re not fat, per say, just HUGE. And when I was 10 I wanted a fish tank (because my 10 year old arch-nemesis had one, and she could NOT be cooler than me. This is also how I learned to ride my bike without training wheels. Because I wouldn’t be outdone by a stupid boy. More on that later.)

My mom agreed to a little 1.5 gallon one, and I put 2 goldfish in it after I killed like a dozen Neon Tetras. One stayed a goldfish, the other one turned into a radioactive-koi-carp-monster. I don’t know what happened, or when, I just woke up one day and he was 4 times the size of the other goldfish. Hence, I bestowed upon him the name of “Meatball”.

Meatball was the best fish ever, as far as fish-human companionship can go. He liked to ride the bubbles from the aerator to the top of the tank, and I liked to watch. He also liked to eat all of the food, so his tank-mate didn’t last very long.

Also. I was 10, and not at the height of my responsibleness, so his tank got super dirty pretty regularly. One day I came home and Meatball was floating at the top of his tank on his side. I knew from Meatball’s ex-roomie, and my sister’s Japanese fighting fish that this meant “dead”. I was responsible enough to at least get my little green net to flush him in a proper burial ceremony. So I scooped him up and carried him to the potty, and dumped him into the bowl-of-the-afterlife…


AND HE STARTED SWIMMING!! MEATBALL WAS ALIVE!! I was so happy!! And he was a little overly exhilarated himself, because before I could scoop him back up with

my little green net, he swam straight up the pressurized shoot that sent out fresh flush water from the tank. Well shit. What was I gonna do now??

Again. I’m 10. So my underdeveloped brain agrees the best approach is to stick the net in front of the “new water” chute, and flush. Plan being that Meatball would shoot out into the net, and I could stick him back in his tank for more good times riding those bubble waves. That. Is NOT. What happened.

I flushed, the water pressure shot the net out of the way, and Meatball went on to the fishy afterlife whether he, and I, were ready for it or not. And I BAWLED.

To this day, I have no idea how my mom consoled me so earnestly for what must have been, like, 6 hours and never even let a giggle slip. It had to be torture for her. So once again Momma, I’m sorry. This is the child you birthed. At least you’ll have something to tell your grandchildren =P Also, I’m pretty sure Meatball’s actually still alive somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico laying waste to Hammerhead sharks and oil tankers.

So friends? It’s an absolute imperative that I not be the dumbest 10 year old ever. Join me in my corner, what’s your most ridiculous pet story??


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This entry was posted in Adventures, Behavior, We're All Guilty of It, Who? Me? and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Meatball, not MeatWad. Two different guys people.

  1. moinla says:

    Ah…Meatball…may he (giggle) rest in peace.

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