A Fictional Tale about a Fish Named Fred

There was once a hypothetical fish named Fred.

FREDHe was a big old, pale, butt-ugly Kissing Gourami who had been left to his own devices for far too long. Hypothetically, he lived alone in his tank. (Rumor has it that he ate all the other hypothetical fish.) Neither he, nor his master, took the time to clean the tank, so, in this hypothetical world, it was green and gooey and, needless to say, the nastiest hypothetical thing you have ever imagined.

One day Fred’s owner died, leaving Fred alone in the world save one lone relative who could not take him in. The Lone Relative, hypothetically, asked old friends of Fred’s master to please find someone to take poor old, ugly Fred in.

Hypothetically, the family friends asked everyone they could think of if they would take in a lone Kissing Gourami. They asked the cleaning man, Sal. They asked the Pre-K moms at school. They even, reluctantly, asked their hypothetical friends. No one could take in an old ugly, ornery Kissing Gourami. Hypothetically, they even considered Craig’s List and a Yard Sale, but never went that far.

In the end, hypothetically, they sold the dresser that the fish tank was resting on to an old Russian couple, so Hypothetical Fred had to go. Hypothetically, this occurred on the rainiest day anyone had seen in a long time. Rivers of hypothetical water rushed down the sides of the street from large drops of monsoon rains.

The family friends worked together and drained the water from the tank and then netted a somewhat freaked out Fred and put him in a Beta bowl that was much too small, much too cold and certainly, much too clean, hypothetically, that is. Family Friend Brother, hypothetically, repeated over and over again that Fred was “going to croak” in the small Beta bowl. At last, Family Friend Mother, Brother & Sister devised a plan to give Fred one last chance at life. Brother would dump Fred into the rushing waters of the street (hypothetically) and we (I mean, they) would hope for a miraculous adaption from filtered, heated water, to cold rain runoff.

Alas, Brother and Sister, hypothetically, watched from the window as Fred’s pale pink body resisted the flow of the water and was eventually washed a few feet downstream sideways.

The Family Friend Family consoled themselves with imagining that Fred’s hypothetical chances in the rain runoff were better than his hypothetical chances in the toilet bowl. And they couldn’t quite help chuckling at the thought of an unsuspecting person walking down the street catching sight of a big old, pale, butt ugly Kissing Gourami peering back up at them.

Hypothetically, of course.

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