The BoneBlog

BoneBlog Correspondent:  So, Ernest, what kind of fish are you?

Ernest:  A Siamese Fighting Fish.  Also known as a betta.     

BBC:  Can you tell us a little about your living conditions?

Ernest:  Well, right now I'm being held captive in this little bowl with a light on it.  My captors include That Girl, That Woman, That Man, and the most savage of all my captors (shudder), That Toddler.  That Girl that lives in the room with me, she likes to leave my light on all night.  That would be tolerable but for the fluorescent pebbles in the bottom of my bowl, which are distracting.  She sings a lot, too.  Then all day she goes off to school and I'm stuck here in her computer's electromagnetic field, most likely getting cancer, staring out at her bedroom.  All in all, I'd say the conditions are slightly better than those at Gitmo or Abu Ghraib.

BBC:  Wow.  That sounds like a rough life.  Can you give us an idea of some of the challenges you've faced?

Ernest:  Well, aside from the sporadic feedings and going too long between water changes, I've had some harrowing experiences.  A few weeks ago, That Girl was changing my water and dropped me on the kitchen floor.  That was a good 4-foot fall!  It's a good thing I have big fins to break my fall.  And if that weren't enough, That Man came along last night to change my water and he dropped me on the kitchen counter.  It's a damn good thing I can breathe regular air.  I lay there, struggling, while he hollered, 'SHIT!'    I thought, 'Yeah, man.  No kidding.  Look who's talking.' 

BBC:  Sounds like you should have body armor.

Ernest: Yeah, well, I haven't evolved that far yet.

BBC:  I heard you went on a hunger strike when you were first brought here.

Ernest:  Wouldn't you?  There I was, on top of the world, being heartily fed at the North Pole when Santa loaded me on his sleigh and dropped me off for That Girl.  She started feeding me those nasty flakes.  I wouldn't even feed a bloodworm that stuff.  I refused to eat until That Woman spent a little extra on pellets.  She rolled her eyes at the idea of a picky fish, but whatever.  At the end of the day, I won.

BBC:  Uh-huh.  I see.  What would you say to your captors right now?

Ernest:  I think I'd probably beg them to be more careful about bodily injury.  A fish can only handle so much trauma.  Oh, and in the name of all that is holy, please keep That Toddler away from me.  I've seen the damage he can do, and I want no part of it.  That Girl is typically compassionate, though misguided.  I half-expect her to try to put me in a dress or wrap ribbons around me, like she does with everything else.  That Woman pretty much ignores me, though she came in awhile ago and kept flashing bright lights at me and telling me to 'pose,' whatever that is.  She said it was for my interview.  Whatever.  I guess we all have our crosses to bear. I can say this for sure -- Nemo didn't know how good he had it.

Oh BBC, this is hilarious! It aamkes me remember laughing with you and that Brose chick at DNR, we even got told that we were having 'too much fun', God you are such a witt. I love it. When will the BBC interview your dog? I can hardly wait.

Later

I've had one of these fish, off and on, forever. They're pretty cool when you put a mirror up to the bowl and let them feel all macho and stuff. Their fins fan out and their colors get really bright. I'd do this once every other day just so "Nemo" would feel like he successfully defended his territory.