I thought it was funny, the way Michael was swimming. Michael was my favorite fish. He had a silly mouth that he got flat and attached it to the glass. Mommy told me he did that because he was an oto-something algae eater. But now Michael was on his back, not attaching his mouth to anything.
I’ve had him for a long time, since Christmas when I was four and a half. Now I am already five and a quarter.
I told Mommy to come and see how Michael was swimming funny, and she said, “Oh, sorry, Billy-boy,” and she had that sad look on her face, like when Granny came to visit.
She took Michael out of the fish tank, and when I asked her why, she said that it was time to set Michael free.
“But what about George and Natasha?” I asked. George and Natasha were black and had bulgy eyes. I liked them too. “Won’t they get jealous?”
“No, baby. They have to wait for their own turn.”
She held the fish net with Michael in it. Michael wasn’t moving at all. I followed Mommy and Michael to the bathroom.
“Does Michael need to go poo-poo?” I asked.
“No, sweetie,” she told me. “Say bye-bye to Michael. He is going away to the ocean.” She put Michael in the toilet and pushed down the flushing handle.
“Bye-bye, Michael,” I said.
But I thought of that time when we went to the ocean. We had to drive in the car, and it took at least six hours.