Hey everyone. I’m writing this at what I would imagine would be 4am. I can’t know for sure because while beta fish possess amazing skills when it comes to typing on a computer and translating bubbles into prose, we cannot read numbers. So I can’t tell what time it is on Rachel’s desktop clock. But I figured I should have enough time to get in a few words before the work day starts. Then THEY come in and it’s back in the bowl for me- back to acting like I can’t see the mayhem that is going on around me and back to pretending that I don’t have the capacity for feeling and thus for judging. Here’s the short of it. My name is Pitch (that’s not really my name but that is what THEY call me so to make things easier we’ll just stick with that.) My name is Pitch and I was just another beta fish in a pet store on 9th avenue when about a year ago, I was thrust into a plastic bag only to end up back in a bowl – albeit one with pink stones on the bottom. At first I was shell shocked. It was a game of survival. When would they understand how to get the temperature right when they were changing my water? When would the one called Marla STOP pouring food into my little clean environment? Are they REALLY considering putting accessories in here to make it prettier?
Once I realized that their intentions were good, I stopped worrying and began to chill out a little (though after I was dropped, gasping in burning air during what I thought would be the last moments of my sad life) I will never let my guard down completely. But as I was saying, after some time, I stopped worrying and that was when I started actually listening to what was going on around me. And let me tell you, sometimes I wish I HAD perished on that fateful day because these girls do. not. shut. up.
Now don’t get me wrong, I really do love them but I just don’t GET it. Take Rachel, my deskmate. When she thinks I’m not looking, she takes out a notebook that she keeps hidden under her computer. The cover has “Rachel Bieber”, “Mrs. Justin Bieber”, and “The She-ber” scrawled over it in careful cursive. She likes to flip through it and look at all the JB pics she glued in from old issues of Popstar magazine.
Kristen came in the other day screaming about bugs. I googled them last night and I get why she might be upset that little flying monsters have taken over her apartment but then how do you explain her fascination with the butt-flies?? She puts on these god awful youtube videos and watches them with a rapture that I can’t even begin to comprehend. *Note – I have just learned they are Flour Beetles. Her roommate doesn’t know how to close a container of pasta. If I had thumbs I’d keep the cleanest bowl ever.
Susan I can deal with for the most part except for the fact that I know if the building were on fire and my demise certain without her help, she would choose to grab her makeup bag over my bowl as she escaped. She likes to point out that adopting me was NOT her idea.
Mary has a problem sitting still for too long and likes to play with anything and everything at her fingertips. The result of this behavior varies depending on what it is she is man handling, but take yesterday when she took a bottle of spray glitter and proceeded to go spray crazy with it all over her hair. The fumes alone were enough to almost kill me but then she keeps putting on more and more and the glitter started to fall into my tank and now I swear I’ve ingested it and even if I survive the glitter poisoning, I’m now living in a bowl with pink SPARKLY rocks. Great.
It’s Marla’s birthday this weekend so I’m going to be respectful and save my venting for another time…
If anyone is out there- My name is Pitch. I am a blue beta fish. Please get me out of here.