It’s not everyday your goldfish decides to talk to you.
Yep, you heard me alright. My fish decided to talk to me. And not just talk. He decided to insult me.
”God, you don’t even have a life.” Is what Doofenshmirtz first said.
I turned in my desk chair, looking around for anyone that may have said that.
”You don’t have a life.”
I furrowed my brow, looking at the crucifix that was near my door on the wall.
“Is this God?” I whispered, unsure. “Is this a sign?”
“Ha, that’d be too lucky. Nope, the person talking to you is a little closer to home. Like right under your nose.”
Just for the heck of it, I actually looked under my nose. Like down the bridge of my nose.
”Or maybe, ya know, on your desk.”
I looked at my desk, then picked up my little Freddie Mercury bobble head.
“Freddie? Are you the one talking to me? If you are, that’d kinda be amazing. Cause like, I love your music.” I stared into his painted eyes, searching for an answer.
“Yeah, no. I’m not a bobble head. I’m more like a cartoon character.” My fish hinted at again.
Finally, I looked at the Avatar: The Last Airbender poster above my desk.
“Oh God, it’s Aang who's talking to me. Although Aang wouldn’t give me that sass. Maybe Sokka then?” I gasped, “Or maybe Zuko? Oh, please be Zuko!”
”No!” The culprit shouted, “Oh, for God’s sake, look at the fishbowl!”
I slowly turned in my chair, then looked at the fishbowl.
“D-Doofenshmirtz?” I asked, “Is that you?”
”Of course it’s me!” He shouted at me, his tiny mouth moving as he yelled.
“But-but how? How long have you been able to talk?”
”Basically forever,” he tried to shrug with his fins, “Just never had anything to say.”
“Wait, wait, wait, you mean to tell me you’ve been able to talk this WHOLE TIME?!”
”Yep,” was his answer, once again shrugging.
That was when I fainted.
…
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” was all I heard him say next. “You’ve been unconscious for half an hour.”
”How do you even know what sleeping beauty is?” I asked him, rubbing my head.
”I have my ways.”
”Look,” I pointed my finger at him through the fish bowl, staring into his beady little eyes, “If you’re going to be all Mr. Mysterious just stop talking, okay? Lighten the mood, dude.”
Doofenshmirtz sighed. “Fine, you want me to ‘lighten the mood, dude’ then I’ll tell you a joke.”
I crossed my arms, waiting for his joke.
Doof took a deep breath, then said, “A sandwich walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender says, ‘Sorry, we don’t serve food here’.”
I roll my eyes at him, then jump on my bed. “I can’t believe my fish is talking and telling me dad jokes,” I murmered, throwing my arm over my eyes.
”Oh, you don’t like those?” Doof mused, “Alright, I’ll tell you more.”
”No!” I shout, “PLEASE don’t, I already hear enough from Dad all the time.”
”Where do you think I learned these from? When I used to live in the living room I’d watch him look them up all the time.” Of course, of course he learned it from Dad.
That’s when I got on my knees, begging him, “PLEASE don’t say another one. I-I’ll do anything, I’ll feed you more! Just please, no more dad jokes.”
He thought about it for a minute, then said, “Okay, alright. If you can’t handle my jokes so bad, I’ll stop.”
”Thank you!” I hugged his fishbowl, glad he wouldn’t torture me with dad jokes.
”But if I see any fishy behavior from you, I’ll start them up again.”
I let go of his fishbowl, confused. “What do you mean?”
”Well,” Doof started, “A lot of times you come in here and write some pretty depressing stuff in your notebook. And you seriously don’t think I can’t hear you cry yourself to sleep at night? It’s very concerning, actually.”
”What, so you think I need to get some help, then? Like talk to a therapist or something?” I didn’t quite believe him, especially since he’s…well, a fish.
“Yes, go see a therapist or something. You know, it’s only a matter of time before your mom sees what you’ve written in your notebook.” Doof was right. Mom was always pretty concerned about me, so if she found that notebook she might have a panic attack.
I sighed. “Alright, fine. I’ll stop the fishy behavior.”
Doof looked like he raised an eyebrow. If he had any.
”And try getting a therapist.”
Doof did like a happy swim, glad that I was getting help.
As I turned to start doing my homework, Doof cleared his throat. “Oh, and one last thing.”
“What?”
“RIP boiling water. He will be greatly mist.”
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