I bought another fish recently to keep Churchill, my fancy goldfish,
company. It’s a fantail goldfish, and its name is Bo. The other fish
at the store had apparently heard of me. While my back was
turned, I quite clearly heard the phrase “aquarium of death” bubbled
around. I ignored them.
As I checked out, the clerk leaned close to me and asked, “Do they fry up good?” Apparently, she thought I had been buying so many goldfish because I was dipping them in batter and serving them with chips on the side. I didn’t reply, just smiled and shook my head, even though everyone knows you can’t fry goldfish. (You have to bake them in a low-temperature oven—or so I’ve heard.)
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