Today you get to meet my friend, Olivia! She agreed to do a guest post on my blog. 😃
First, a little backstory. We’ve known each other for years (pretty much since babies). This is a story of when she was hanging out at my house, and we were probably around nine at this point? (Correct me in the comments, Olivia, if this is wrong. I don’t remember for sure.
My memory has always been awful.) It’s a true story and… 😝 well anyway, I DO remember this story.
A Fishy Tale
One day Alabama and I were sitting in her bedroom, trying to think of what we could do to pass the time, when I had a stroke of genius (which turned out to be a stroke of stupidity).
“Why don’t we make a house for your fish?” I asked as I stared at her tank.
She glanced up from where she sat beside me and pondered the suggestion. “What would we make it out of?”
“I don’t know, an old cereal box and tape?” My eleven-year-old mind didn’t think of the consequences that would follow.
She nodded. “That might work. How about I get the tape and scissors, and you ask Mom for the box.”
We set out to find the treasure, and after doing so, we met once again in Alabama’s bedroom, positively delighted by our plan. We set to work right away, cutting the cereal box into pieces, forming a rough square shape, and taping the pieces into place. (Quite the solid structure, I’m sure!) It took us a while to get something that was up to our standards, but when we finally did, we examined it with satisfaction.
I stated the obvious. “Now we just need to put it into the tank.”
Picking the fish house up in both hands, I strode to the other side of the room with Alabama right behind me. I set the cardboard house down on the dresser so I could push up my sleeves, and after doing so, carefully submerged the house in the water. You might be able to guess what happened when I lifted my hand back out of the water, but at the age of eleven, I didn’t think of all these small—though just as important—details.
The house floated.
Now, most people would think it painfully obvious that cardboard floats, but neither Alabama nor I had thought about it.
We stared at it bobbing up and down on the top of the water for a minute before Alabama spoke.
“How are we gonna make it stay at the bottom?”
I shrugged before going back to the bed and slouching at the edge. “I don’t know.”
As we sat beside each other yet again, pondering what we could do, I was struck once again with an amazing idea. (Or rather, another idiotic one.)
“All we have to do is put one of your shells on top of the house, and the weight will hold it down,” I stated.
“Oh, ya, that’s a good idea!” Alabama agreed, and we both got up and walked over to the fish tank.
We figured out after a while that one person would have to hold the house down on the bottom of the tank, while the other placed the large shell on top of it. It worked, and we rejoiced in our victory. Alabama’s two younger brothers came in to see what we were up to, and they joined us in admiring the new fish house.
Time passed as we kids occupied ourselves with other activities, and when Alabama and I returned to the bedroom to get something, we were in for a shock.
Her fish was floating on the top of the tank.
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It took us a while to get her fish into another bowl and pour all the water from the tank into the sink, since we had decided we should clean the tank of evidence of the murder. We had seen pieces of tape floating at the top of the water, and it didn’t take us long to realize what had killed Alabama’s fish.
The fish house.
The tape and the cardboard had tons of chemicals, of course, and we assumed they had poisoned the fish. As horrible as it was, it was pretty amusing, and we cleaned out the tank while chuckling at our stupidity.
We had placed the limp fish in a bowl with some water as we cleaned the tank inside and out, and when we turned our attention back to the unfortunate creature, we were surprised to discover it swimming around.
“I guess it’s not dead after all!” Alabama exclaimed, and we refilled the tank with water after putting all the rocks and shells in the bottom.
We did not put the fish house back in.
After placing the now-living fish back into its home, we sighed in relief that there hadn’t been a murder after all.
However, to our great dismay, later that day we found the fish floating on the top of the water, definitely dead this time. Alabama ended up flushing it down the toilet, but I still think we should have buried it just for whatever.
This event has impacted me in many ways and will continue to, as I repeatedly realize how fragile and meaningful life really is. 😉
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Haha, ohhh yes!! Those were the times… What’s crazy is that after this happened, Olivia offered to make a fish house for our friend! Then we joked that she could make a living off of fish houses and become a fish murderer. 🤦♀️ Oh my word, the conversations we had.
Well, thanks, Olivia, for joining me! I hope everyone enjoyed reading the story!
(P.S Do you have any crazy stories to share from your childhood? Let me know in the comments! I’d love to hear them!)