Well...

And I thought this was going to be a deep subject!
Hammerhead

Let's create our own deep subject from what we expected to be here. I surmise this was going to tell the tail of a fragile you boy stricken with grief over the death of his goldfish, Fluffy.

Fluffy, would play everyday with the boy, swimming back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, in that monotonous droll that only a fish can bring. The boy loved him, he was his best of friends. But, one day, tragically, Fluffy was struck with rumatory arthritis and could no longer swim in his ridiculous monotnous way. The boy soon lost faith in mankind and would snap at even the slightest of comments, which weren't of the highest praise, towards Fluffy.

You see, Fluffy had been the only one to ever play with the boy. They'd play baseball, but that soon had to stop after 20 or so broken bowls - Fluffy caught like a 3 yr old. They'd go to the movies, but the boy would always have to leave because Fluffy would make such a fuss flopping about all over the seat. Yes, it's true, Fluffy hadn't been the most exciting, viable, or eventful pet that a young boy would need. But, Fluffy had his spunk, and that's all the boy needed.

But, sadly, the rumatory arthritis took that away. No, tragically, there was no great Sage, oh let's call him "Jim," to enlighten the boy in the ways of dealing with body malady. And, thus, Fluffy began swim about less and less until the dull glaze that once existed in his listless eyes grew to a slightly darker glaze and full on despondent. Oh, he tried and he tried for the boy's sake, but he just couldn't swim on. You see, that fish, he swam. He just kept pushing himself until that faintful second when his heart gave in and he lets out a gasping... bubble - his last bubble.

The boy grew up withdrawn from the world, a world of which he might have enjoyed should he still have his dearest Fluffy. He sadly had no direction in life and got mixed up with the wrong crowds. Sure, those bingo girls looked old and sweet, but they were heartless and bent on only the desire to win. (At this point I too have no idea where this is going.) Yes, the boy got caught up in the high stakes life of Bingo calling, and one day, that boy's "number" came up. One little old lady opened the giant bingo cage on the boy when he refused to call her "B7" and he was crushed under the weight of the falling balls. Each one, unlike the dagger through his heart like Fluffy's death, was more like a bowling ball to head. The boy died. But, have heart ye readers, the boy went to Goldfish Heaven. Yes, that's right, the boy's love for Fluffy was so strong that the heavens granted him the privelage of Goldfish Heaven. The boy and the Goldfish still swim back and forth, back and forth, each day. Remembrances of better times, the joy of new memories to come, and the utter lack of rumatory arthritis in heaven, meant that the boy would always be able to find his happiness. Right beside him, swimming ever vigilantly, in his bestest of friends, Fluffy.

~Keck

You know what keck... your post proved to me a wonderfully enlightening point...

I am not the only insane one in this forum!!!

Woooooot!!!

-Cub. =o)

TOG agrees with the Cubmaster.

It's true, I am a little nutty. I don't know why, but I decided to write that long thing just before work, leaving me about 10 minutes later to work than normal. Thank god for flex time.

What I like about the story is it takes you through the full range of emotions. I even squeeze a little tear of joy out at the end.

~Keck

Note: Jim, did you catch the "Sage Allusion"?

Wow. Who knew that a screw up would bring out one of the most heartfelt story of our time. I feel like I have acomplished something. Later.

I feel all teary-eyed and twitchy now...