I woke up this morning, dull pain in my head, and cursing the day I ever got so much work to finish. Too much work – Too much head pain – Too little sleep – Too many problems for a Holiday !
So I let my friend - my mind - do a little wandering... travelling back to the good old days when I didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘Stress’!
It took me back to Rupert! You know Rupert, don’t you? Of course you don’t! Rupert was my little sister’s pet goldfish. Good old Rupert! I hated the bugger! He would stare at me through his little tank as if I was mental. And then if I decided to talk to him, he would promptly turn his shiny ass on me and wiggle it!
(Do you know the one about the goldfish in the tank? It couldn’t quite figure out how to shoot the missiles!) OK – humour aside…
So anyway, I hated Rupert, and when I was that small, I couldn’t stomach the idea of being given attitude by a goldfish. I wanted to make him pay. I wanted pain and death and suffering to befall him! I wanted to be the cruel master of his terrible destiny! (err…I also wanted a new bicycle and to stop wearing godforsaken braces….)
Besides, I was at a curious age...
I had heard that a goldfish will eat itself to death, because it forgets that it is full. So I micro-waved the little bugger. Come to think of it, there was no logical connection between thought and action now was there?
Oh well. The rest is history. My mum wasn’t too thrilled with the stain the explosion caused inside the micro-wave. But my father laughed it off as a good learning experience. The best thing is, my sister was at my cousin’s on DtR-Day (Death-to Rupert-Day), and we replaced him with Rupertt and my sister could never tell the difference. Rupertt and I had a healthy and happy relationship, until one day I accidentally dropped the whole can of fish feed into his tank...
So I let my friend - my mind - do a little wandering... travelling back to the good old days when I didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘Stress’!
It took me back to Rupert! You know Rupert, don’t you? Of course you don’t! Rupert was my little sister’s pet goldfish. Good old Rupert! I hated the bugger! He would stare at me through his little tank as if I was mental. And then if I decided to talk to him, he would promptly turn his shiny ass on me and wiggle it!
(Do you know the one about the goldfish in the tank? It couldn’t quite figure out how to shoot the missiles!) OK – humour aside…
So anyway, I hated Rupert, and when I was that small, I couldn’t stomach the idea of being given attitude by a goldfish. I wanted to make him pay. I wanted pain and death and suffering to befall him! I wanted to be the cruel master of his terrible destiny! (err…I also wanted a new bicycle and to stop wearing godforsaken braces….)
Besides, I was at a curious age...
I had heard that a goldfish will eat itself to death, because it forgets that it is full. So I micro-waved the little bugger. Come to think of it, there was no logical connection between thought and action now was there?
Oh well. The rest is history. My mum wasn’t too thrilled with the stain the explosion caused inside the micro-wave. But my father laughed it off as a good learning experience. The best thing is, my sister was at my cousin’s on DtR-Day (Death-to Rupert-Day), and we replaced him with Rupertt and my sister could never tell the difference. Rupertt and I had a healthy and happy relationship, until one day I accidentally dropped the whole can of fish feed into his tank...
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