Go Fish

(You can scroll down in the text field)

GO FISH

I walked into my living room and saw a Tyrannosaurus Rex curled up in the goldfish bowl.

“Holy Christ!” I yelled, “He’s eaten my prize guppy!”

Luckily, upon closer inspection, I noticed that my guppy hadn’t been eaten, nor was he even dead. Yet. He was wriggling around in a small pool of water at the T. Rex’s elbow. Rex was curled so that his tail stuck out the top of the bowl, and his head was tucked under his arm. No matter how he gnashed his teeth he couldn’t get above his elbow to snap up the fish.

I had to get Abulafia out of there, and fast, before the water dried up or the T. Rex ended up eating his own arm to get at my fish. I grabbed my fish net and a can of fish food, and approached the bowl.

I held the net out before me, believing dinosaurs to have been more reliant on smell than sight, and hoping if he were able to break free from the bowl he would have done it already. I wiggled the net slightly, to see if he would go for it. He stopped working his jaws, as if he’d seen the motion of the net, but wasn’t sure what he wanted to do about it yet. He started to lift his head, but it rammed against the base of his tail at the mouth of the fishbowl, and he couldn’t go any further. He let out a roar and a snort, and tried again, harder. I backed away slightly, but didn’t run.

He fumed and strained and managed to rock the bowl slightly on the table, but he ended up just as stuck as he’d been when I walked in the room. I felt it was safe to move forward, and did so. I stroked his tail slightly with the net, and he flicked it around. It caught me on shoulder, and knocked me into the side of the sofa. Ouch. Hadn’t been prepared for that. I got to my feet, and it seemed like all important parts were in working order, so I set my teeth and returned to the bowl, this time approaching from behind his head. He wasn’t so fearsome when you couldn’t see his teeth. But I kept one eye on that tail.

I peered down into the bowl, past his head, and I could see a small space between his eyeball and the rim, and in that space was my guppy, my Abu baby, my one and only.

“Hang on, I’m coming for you,” I whispered.

The tail whipped around and I ducked, chortling smugly. Rexie didn’t seem to know exactly where I was, and he was flicking randomly. I figured I was safe as long as I wasn’t foolish.

But how to get my guppy out? Could I blind the T. Rex with the food flakes and then dive in with my net? Dare I reach in with my hand? Could I turn the bowl over and shake out Abulafia? Just how heavy was a Tyrannosaur, anyhow?

Abulafia had stopped wriggling. Uh oh. That’s a bad sign.

“Don’t give up,” I said, and caught a tail tip on my temple. But it was only the tip, and it only knocked me down on one knee. And from my position on the floor I looked up and saw the yellow eye of the mighty thunder lizard glaring down at me, and I saw it! I knew his secret weakness. I knew the way to free my sweet fish from suffocation or swallowing.

I quickly dropped the can of fish food and ripped the end off the fishnet, leaving just a long wire stick. I bent the tip of the stick into a hook, and stood as far back from the bowl as I could. I leaned forward and extended the tip of the stick into the bowl, carefully working it down past the Rex’s crown, past his eye, past my lovely guppy, and down under the dino’s arm. I carefully, oh so carefully maneuvered the tip up under the armpit, and then I poked and jiggled and wriggled that stick, and the dino...I knew it! He was ticklish! He flinched, and the motion of his arm jerking up sent my little fishy flying up out of the tank, through the air, and, luckily, into my upstretched hand. I ran to the kitchen, pulled a pot down from above the stove, and filled it with water, throwing Abulafia in as I did so. He started flicking his long, gorgeous tail, and swimming round and round his new temporary home, and I knew he was going to be okay.

I tiptoed through the living room to the front door, trying not to panic at the sight and sound of a thrashing, growling Tyrannosaurus Rex, trying not to spill a drop from my impromptu fishbowl. I made it safely through the door and closed it, just as the sound of crashing glass came from inside, and managed to lock it behind me before thundering feet came up to the door, and the splintering thuds began hammering it from inside. I speed walked to the main door, and was out on the sidewalk before you could say “megafauna.” I didn’t stop for three blocks, and then only to dial the SPCA, give them my apartment number, and tell them to bring the big guns.

Andrea Blumberg