We are fish killers.

Voltaire is dead. (This fish, not the philosopher. We know this philosopher is dead.)

He was fine yesterday. Then he just keeled over. I had to scoop him out of the tank with an incense burner. I think we should invest in a net. And perhaps some more substantial fish. Voltaire wasn't a pussy betta, though. You can't name a pussy fish Voltaire. However, I think you can name a fish that you suspect to have digestive problems Voltaire. I think he died of a stomach problem.

In any case, now I have to walk halfway across campus to the bus stop with a dead fish in my hand and then ride the bus downtown with said dead fish to get a new one. God damnit. I thought that was gonna be a one time thing. Fuck.

I hate sea creatures.