I haven't had much luck with fish. Specifically, pet fish, of the Siamese (or Beta) variety. Known for their ability to survive in cramped spaces with minimal attention and care, they are the ideal pet for lazy people.
Yet two Betas have died on me recently. The first fish, who I had aptly named "Fish," froze to death while I was on vacation in California. A few months later, the second fish, which I named "Fish II," starved to death while I was on vacation in California. Ironically, I had installed an automatic feeder for Fish I, but neglected to leave on a heater. Fish II had plenty of heat, but I just forgot to feed it. If Fish I and Fish II were merged into one super fish, they would have been just fine. So I guess we can only conclude that it serves them both right.
Sure, if we're going to play the blame game, then fine, maybe I didn't exactly take care of them properly. I've decided my problems of neglect stem from me not being home enough. So, after moving into my newly constructed office space, I bought a new fish for work. My computer has been programmed to remind me twice daily to feed the new fish. And he lives in an office environment that is always warm.
But one thing still bothered me. Perhaps naming a fish after its own species was bad luck. Both Fish I and Fish II had kicked the bucket, after all. This time, I felt it appropriate to give my new fish a proper name. And that name is Murderkill.
So welcome, Murderkill, to your new life. You will receive exactly 8 pellets of food per day, in exchange for which you will float around in your glass vase and look interesting. Failing to comply with said rule will result in an immediate reduction in the amount of delicious pellets you receive. I hope we're clear on this. Do your job or it's a one way trip to a toilet bowl near you, mister. We both know that I don't mess around.