In Memoriam: 300 Pineapples
I went home at lunch yesterday to find him sprawled on the aquarium pebbles, covered in a white peat moss type substance.
I reasoned that either he went out and purchased a cute little frog sweater or he was shrouded in death fluff.
It was the dead thing.
Clarissa laid on top of him, as if to assuage his pain. Well, that or she's a necro.
So, last night, at 11:58pm EST my dear little Bread became one with the City of Somerville septic system. He marched to his death like a soldier, on a black plastic kitchen spoon (or, rather, I marched him to his death like a soldier, but whatever). He floated languidly and then descended. It was cyclic and beautiful.
(I later decided to discard said spoon, reasoning that a new $3 spoon would be a better choice than remembering his tiny limp legs every time I stirred rice.)
But, because nothing is ever settled in FrogWorld-Davis Square Branch, this morning presented an entirely new development.
The pink plastic aquarium plant had unlodged itself from the floor-pebbles and was floating at the top of the tank. Both Frankie and Clarissa were stuck in it.
I pushed it around with a chopstick, and then tried to replant the thing at the bottom, but couldn't get it to stay for any amount of struggle. (Jason, how did you get those things in originally??)
Frank and Claris are moving around again now, but are obviously upset and shaken. Poor things; first, one-third of your social circle dies, then a piece of pink sea-flora 8 times your body size releases itself from the ground, floating to the sky... with you entangled in it.
No, that is not a good day.
I need to find those guys something really nice for Christmas.
[flickr thanks to bcmom.]