Killing Kugi Katz
*Attention: the names have been changed to protect the guilty.
A typical Thursday afternoon found Betty coiling up the vacuum and finger
Kugi? Oh fish.
dusting bon-bons while she flips magazines on the couch. She spies an adorable crocodile skin bolo tie in a sales ad and just as she contemplates purchasing the designer piece for Jed, the laundry buzzer- well, buzzes. Ho-hum, she shuffles her blue bunny slippers through the kitchen on way to retrieve ocean breeze scented boxer shorts and clean towels. The phone rings and as she turns to answer it she reads upon the caller ID that it is nothing more than a telemarketer. Annoyed, she stares at OUT OF AREA 800-548-2385. Her eyes flick to the fish bowl sitting next to the ringing home invader. “Mr. Kugi Katz,” she scolds, “you answer it.” Kugi hovers above rainbow rocks and flits his tail. Betty observes his graceful movements and frowns at his noticeably dirty water. She peers into the bowl through a grey film.
“Let’s get you clean, shall we?” She coos at her fish the way grandma saps at her poodle Dixie, which is the exact high pitch she also uses on grandchildren. Betty scoops Kugi into a glass and proceeds scrubbing his transparent home. She sings Christinia Aguilera altering the words to incorporate her gilled friend, “What a fish wants, what a fish needs..” Carefully she drains a bit of the dirty water from the glass that Kugi is lingering in. Just a bit, a little bit more, and “Oh fish!” Kugi drops into the sink an inch from the garbage disposal.
Frantically, Betty flicks Kugi back into the empty glass and hurriedly turns on the tap. Scalding water dumps onto Kugi. “AH fish!” She screams and turns on the cold. Kugi swerves, flips, flutters his fins twice and rests on his side. “Kugi?” Betty waits five minutes. Tap-tap. “Kugi?”
Betty shuffles her blue bunny feet to the bathroom and with tears in her eyes flushes the family pet. “What will the children think?” Betty panics.
At the pet store, she inspects fish after fish looking for a suitable match. “Well, he was blue. About this big, ” she squishes her fingers together at the bubble gum smacking sales lady.
“All we have is what is out on display,” sales girl tells her. Betty picks a greenish-blue fish and hurries home. The impostor is dumped into the immaculate bowl. The children arrive. Betty bites her lip. “That’s not Kugi,” her son matter-of-factly states. “No?” Betty asks in her best surprised-but-not-too-surprised-tone, “Well, who is that?”
“Nee-Nee,” he replies, “Can I have a juice?” No mention of where Kugi went? No questioning? No wondering? Welcome Nee-Nee! Betty pours her son a tall glass of apple juice and drains a bottle of Merlot into a different cup for herself.
“Cheers Nee-Nee,” Betty salutes and taps her glass to the tank, “Hope you don’t mind having the Joy Of Cooking book behind ya.”
New occupant: Nee-Nee! Don't ask, Don't tell.
Funny. We’ve had a betta that’s lived about ten years…….way beyond normal life expectancy for the species. Every year or so, he almost imperceptibly changes color and size but keeps on swimming. Sometimes he naps upside down on the jar floor or floats on top for a brief period but then is up and at em within a day.(wink,wink). Hint…the bigger the jar , the less often tank cleaning trauma can occur since you have to clean it less frequently. Cosco sells monster jars of dill pickles that are perfect ( without the pickles of course).Sure you have to eat them all, then swell up for a day or two until the diuresis starts but hey, what is a little edema compared to fish happiness?
Nichol said this on January 19, 2009 at 3:31 am |
Brilliant! Pickles & Fish.
drea said this on January 19, 2009 at 3:42 pm |
My mother tried this when she inadvertently set free my favorite parakeet while I was away at Girl Scout camp (“Singing Pines”). Her mistake was replacing my perky petite birdette with a lethargic, overweight sullen old thing. We were at the pet store making an exchange within 15 minutes of my arrival home.
It works now, Betty, but it won’t work much longer.
Maggie said this on January 20, 2009 at 5:31 am |
If you are inferring that “I” might be “Betty”, than I take offense and you are entirely mistaken. I merely report the facts. Clearly, I’m a Veronica! (hee hee hee, aka FishKilla)
drea said this on January 21, 2009 at 2:57 am |
There is still no cure for irony….your song of the week is by BassHunter (Yeah I know it’s pronounced “base” but that’s only ironic like Alanis Morissette)
Brian said this on January 20, 2009 at 4:44 pm |
Ummmm…I’ve read the comic and Betty is definitely the blond one. We can’t all be Veronica. Next you’ll want to be Ginger too…
Brian said this on January 21, 2009 at 3:18 am |
Great idea! Ginger…yes, yes, want to be her. Only, I don’t want to be stuck on that island. Brian, you do want to borrow my pink wig, don’t you? Come on, admit it, that’s your angle!
drea said this on January 21, 2009 at 3:49 am |
Listen Maryanne….those pigtails are a dead giveaway. Am I tough enough to wear pink? I suppose for the right cause….but I’d still rather be the Professor. He’d figure the scientific way to get in the TMs. And Ginger had red hair…on her head. Her eyebrows were darker
Brian said this on January 21, 2009 at 3:26 pm |
Well, don’t worry…with the downward economy we’ll all be brunettes again soon! Ha ha.
drea said this on January 21, 2009 at 8:50 pm |