Goldfish #216
Feb. 27th, 2012 12:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookishgeekTITLE: Goldfish #216
AUTHOR:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bookishgeek
RATING: G
WORD COUNT: 974
FEEDBACK: On || FEEDBACK TYPE: Tactful
WARNING: None, unless you hate fish. (the living sort).
SUMMARY: Lucas works a dead-end job in a pet store, but not every day is boring.
PROMPTS: words: familiarity, eleven, pinch, sanity
A/N: This is the first piece of original fiction I've written in months! I hope you enjoy!
------------------------------
"Lucas!" I heard her voice before I saw her, as most of us do - shrill, shrieking, all of the bad parts of the sexy sirens of folklore past without the "sexy" part. Clenching my jaw, I turned to see what all of the fuss was about and saw Dorothy striding toward me. In hindsight, "striding" might not have been the best word to use - perhaps "undulating"?
"Uh huh?" I mumbled, turning from the goldfish tank to look at her. Working in a large, corporation pet store made it really hard to find any time for yourself during the work day. Dorothy had scheduled my shifts just so, and because of that I didn't have any time for a break. When customers weren't around? Away to the goldfish tank I went for the sake of my sanity, staring listlessly into space, vacuous and free. The goldfish didn't seem to mind - they puttered around aimlessly, occasionally bumping into each other and moving away as if to say "sorry, bro." There was something soothing about the monotony that the tank presented: a blur of irridescent orange scales, swaying gently in the tank.
"Why are you always over here with this damn fish tank, anyway?" Dororthy's hands were on her hips and she thrust a barcode scanner at me. "Don't even bother answering that. We need your help getting inventory in the fish department, Lucas. I'll see you in a bit." I grappled for the scanner and watched as Dorothy turned and stormed off, a bull in a china shop.
I have loved fish since I was eleven years old. At the store with my mother, I spied the all-too-familiar plastic cups full of half-alive betta fish on the shelf by the bird seed. I tugged on my mother's shirt, begging to rescue one, to bring it back to life. My mother agreed to my demands and helped me select a bright red betta, who I brought home, named Pinch (due to my rescuing him in one), plopped into a five gallon tank, and took care of for five years before his untimely demise. Since then, my mind has become a vise for fish, the inner workings of any given aquarium filed neatly into my brain like a file full of index cards. I have suspected for a long time that I am the only person at my job who actually knows a damn thing about fish, which is why I am okay with the multiple shifts and no breaks: if it saves a fish's life, I'm game.
I was standing beside the shelf full of aquarium salt when I felt a pull on the strings of my apron. Turning around, I saw a little girl - about four or five years old - with one hand on her hip and the other gesticulating at me. "My name is Ashley and I need help!" she cried out. I noticed an exasperated woman standing at the end of the aisle and, assuming it was her mother, waved.
"Help with what?" I asked, sticking the scanner in my apron pocket and kneeling down to be at her level.
"I want a fishy! That one!" the girl pointed a neon-pink fingernail in the direction of the tank of Cory Catfish, a burrowing type of fish that loves to shuffle around on the bottom of the tank and feed off the flakes of food that fall there. "But my mommy says that it is A Bad Idea." she says "a bad idea" like it's the name of a book, and I glance up at mom, who is nodding ferociously.
"Well," I say, standing up and walking over to the tank of Cories. "These fish are very lovely, but do you know where they like to live?"
"The water!" Ashley crowed, brightening at her obviously correct answer. I sighed inwardly.
"They do, but you know what part of the water? The bottom. See how they are so hard to see in the tank?" Ashley squinted and got down on her knees to be at eye level with the tank of Cories.
"Yep."
"Well, these guys live at the bottom of the fish tank. You know what? I think you need a fishy that likes to live at the top of the tank, so you can see them better! Wouldn't that be great?" Ashley's lips pursed in thought.
"I think so." she said. I pointed out the shelf of betta fish.
"What about one of these?" I asked, casting a glance over my shoulder at mom, who shot me a thumbs up sign and walked over. Ashley peered into each cup, closely examining the betta before coming to a cup with a brightly-colored purple and blue fish hovering in the murky water.
"This one is beautiful," she said reverently, gently picking up the cup between her two little hands and carrying it to me. "Her name is Esmerelda!" I chose not to let her know that all of these betta fish were male, and instead smiled.
"What a great name! She will be so happy to live with you!" Ashley grinned up at me and gingerly let go of the cup with one hand to reach out toward me.
"Thanks, mister fish guy!" she patted my thigh with as much unintentional condescention as a four year old can muster and shuffled off to her mother, thrusting the fish toward her mother, a prize to be won.
I reached back into my apron for my barcode scanner and sighed, eyes drifting back to the goldfish tank. Working for a corporation felt about the same as it felt to be goldfish #216, I was pretty sure. But the occasional difference you could make for one person - one little betta fish with a misgendered name - made goldfish #216 the most contented in the tank.
------------------------------
This was written for week 1 day 1 for the community![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
thewritinggame. Feedback is welcome and wanted from everyone, community participant and friend alike!
AUTHOR:
bookishgeekRATING: G
WORD COUNT: 974
FEEDBACK: On || FEEDBACK TYPE: Tactful
WARNING: None, unless you hate fish. (the living sort).
SUMMARY: Lucas works a dead-end job in a pet store, but not every day is boring.
PROMPTS: words: familiarity, eleven, pinch, sanity
A/N: This is the first piece of original fiction I've written in months! I hope you enjoy!
------------------------------
"Lucas!" I heard her voice before I saw her, as most of us do - shrill, shrieking, all of the bad parts of the sexy sirens of folklore past without the "sexy" part. Clenching my jaw, I turned to see what all of the fuss was about and saw Dorothy striding toward me. In hindsight, "striding" might not have been the best word to use - perhaps "undulating"?
"Uh huh?" I mumbled, turning from the goldfish tank to look at her. Working in a large, corporation pet store made it really hard to find any time for yourself during the work day. Dorothy had scheduled my shifts just so, and because of that I didn't have any time for a break. When customers weren't around? Away to the goldfish tank I went for the sake of my sanity, staring listlessly into space, vacuous and free. The goldfish didn't seem to mind - they puttered around aimlessly, occasionally bumping into each other and moving away as if to say "sorry, bro." There was something soothing about the monotony that the tank presented: a blur of irridescent orange scales, swaying gently in the tank.
"Why are you always over here with this damn fish tank, anyway?" Dororthy's hands were on her hips and she thrust a barcode scanner at me. "Don't even bother answering that. We need your help getting inventory in the fish department, Lucas. I'll see you in a bit." I grappled for the scanner and watched as Dorothy turned and stormed off, a bull in a china shop.
I have loved fish since I was eleven years old. At the store with my mother, I spied the all-too-familiar plastic cups full of half-alive betta fish on the shelf by the bird seed. I tugged on my mother's shirt, begging to rescue one, to bring it back to life. My mother agreed to my demands and helped me select a bright red betta, who I brought home, named Pinch (due to my rescuing him in one), plopped into a five gallon tank, and took care of for five years before his untimely demise. Since then, my mind has become a vise for fish, the inner workings of any given aquarium filed neatly into my brain like a file full of index cards. I have suspected for a long time that I am the only person at my job who actually knows a damn thing about fish, which is why I am okay with the multiple shifts and no breaks: if it saves a fish's life, I'm game.
I was standing beside the shelf full of aquarium salt when I felt a pull on the strings of my apron. Turning around, I saw a little girl - about four or five years old - with one hand on her hip and the other gesticulating at me. "My name is Ashley and I need help!" she cried out. I noticed an exasperated woman standing at the end of the aisle and, assuming it was her mother, waved.
"Help with what?" I asked, sticking the scanner in my apron pocket and kneeling down to be at her level.
"I want a fishy! That one!" the girl pointed a neon-pink fingernail in the direction of the tank of Cory Catfish, a burrowing type of fish that loves to shuffle around on the bottom of the tank and feed off the flakes of food that fall there. "But my mommy says that it is A Bad Idea." she says "a bad idea" like it's the name of a book, and I glance up at mom, who is nodding ferociously.
"Well," I say, standing up and walking over to the tank of Cories. "These fish are very lovely, but do you know where they like to live?"
"The water!" Ashley crowed, brightening at her obviously correct answer. I sighed inwardly.
"They do, but you know what part of the water? The bottom. See how they are so hard to see in the tank?" Ashley squinted and got down on her knees to be at eye level with the tank of Cories.
"Yep."
"Well, these guys live at the bottom of the fish tank. You know what? I think you need a fishy that likes to live at the top of the tank, so you can see them better! Wouldn't that be great?" Ashley's lips pursed in thought.
"I think so." she said. I pointed out the shelf of betta fish.
"What about one of these?" I asked, casting a glance over my shoulder at mom, who shot me a thumbs up sign and walked over. Ashley peered into each cup, closely examining the betta before coming to a cup with a brightly-colored purple and blue fish hovering in the murky water.
"This one is beautiful," she said reverently, gently picking up the cup between her two little hands and carrying it to me. "Her name is Esmerelda!" I chose not to let her know that all of these betta fish were male, and instead smiled.
"What a great name! She will be so happy to live with you!" Ashley grinned up at me and gingerly let go of the cup with one hand to reach out toward me.
"Thanks, mister fish guy!" she patted my thigh with as much unintentional condescention as a four year old can muster and shuffled off to her mother, thrusting the fish toward her mother, a prize to be won.
I reached back into my apron for my barcode scanner and sighed, eyes drifting back to the goldfish tank. Working for a corporation felt about the same as it felt to be goldfish #216, I was pretty sure. But the occasional difference you could make for one person - one little betta fish with a misgendered name - made goldfish #216 the most contented in the tank.
------------------------------
This was written for week 1 day 1 for the community
thewritinggame. Feedback is welcome and wanted from everyone, community participant and friend alike!
