More cult craziness, in the form of fish suicide.

First off, let me start by saying that I do not in any way consider myself a "girly girl." Granted I would wear 4" stillettos and wads of black eyeliner every day if possible, but given the opportunity I would also watch an open-heart surgery without batting an eye (eff, I'd perform one given the time and proper education). I get sickly excited when one of our pets needs a minor procedure performed where I get to wear surgical gloves (preferably the purple variety). However, what greeted me this morning actually had me close to retching.

Let's say that I was in a position to come to work this morning and discover 7 dead koi (lovely Japanese fishes that everyone instinctively falls in love with and usually names [note: this is idiotic as we shall see, FISH DIE EASILY]). Said kamikaze fish had been out of water for approximately 6-97 hours based on their state of decomposition. What led me to them was a 3-foot long trail of fly larva (maggots, for you intellectually challenged) and the absolutely overpowering smell of evil. I would say in total, there were about 83 million now teeming on the floor. My first thought, well, run for my life coupled with an intense disgusting fascination. Let me also add that I have had a 102-degree fever/flu for the last 3 days and had nothing in my stomach but some Tylenol cold/flu.

I went to find some sort of cleaner (preferably of the bleach variety) as I figured I could at least help out by standing at a safe distance and toxically blasting the little guys. I was vastly disappointed when all that we had was "Sun and Earth All Purpose Cleaner." Now normally I would be very proud of my dad for buying such an earth-friendly product. However, when trying to kill/maim/torture thousands of tiny creepy crawlies, the words "Safe to use around children and pets too!" do not bring any inkling of comfort. Sigh. Anyway, problem solved (note: not by my hands but by someone with a far stronger constitution than I while I stood outside in the fresh air, every now and then peering around the corner to appear helpful but mainly thanking fictional Jesus that I was born at the top of the food chain).