This Bowl Ain't Big Enough For the Four of Us...
After three weeks, it can be considered a tradition, right? Or if not a tradition, a habit? On Sundays we meet Shaun and Andi at Taco Bell, and from there we trundle from place to place, talking and not really buying anything. So this sunday I cut right to the chase and instead of the usual, "Hey...uh...did you want to get together?" I just asked, "When are we meeting at Taco Bell?" Lame, I know. Like a high school clique hangout. But I happen to enjoy the fact that after the meef chubacca supremes, we randomly pick a place that will lend itself to good conversation, ie: the huge greenhouse I forget the name of, or the minuscule flea market run by disabled vets, or the big pet store...or the Dollar store. Then we go and pass a leisurely afternoon in talk about everything from video games to books to why we think our pet snail might be a murderer. *sigh*

A couple weeks ago I was this close to buying what the flea market "knife and sword" guy assured me was a genuine authentic replica of the real thing. I thumbed the edge of the shoddy replica of Sting like I knew what I was doing. I whipped it around Andrea's unperturbed face. You've seen this blade before, haven't you....Smeagol? "That's 'Lord of the Rings,'" Knife Guy informed me. "Frudo carries it in the movie." Ah. Frudo, indeed.

I know that the question remains-- hanging there like one of old, teeteringly threatening chandeliers at the Majestic. Is your pet snail REALLY a murderer, or isn't he??? Truth be told, maybe. Fact: We bought a beautiful little fish and a slightly sinister snail. We put them in a bowl together. We named them Pearl and Snidley, respectively. All was peace and love. So much so, that I decided there must be more fish. So I bought two more tiny swimming pieces of art with big fan tails and crayola colors. These we semi-named Friendy and #2. Not even a day had gone by when when came home to find #2 very dead on the bottom of the bowl. Not only dead, but being gnawed on by the inexorable Snidley. Ewwww. Absolutely remorseless. We had to pry him off with an old pencil to free the ravaged body of #2. He flounced away (slowly) into his shell. Within a day, we noticed that Friendy's tail was looking distinctly ragged. I fluttered and fussed and changed the water etc etc to no avail. The more I looked, the more it looked like the original Betsy Ross version of the US flag. No need to describe the scene that greeted us when we came home the next day. I turned to find Ed peering at the bowl with a look of horror, yelping, "NO, Snidley!!" Friendy had become little more than another partially snacked on body. At this point, some suspicion had been cast on Pearl-- were the other fish not compatible with her/him? Was (s)he really a fighting ninja stalker killing fish mistakenly stocked with the guppies? Unfortunately, the only thing that fully cleared Pearl's name was the fact that after weeks of happy, seemingly healthy bowl life, (s)he too was found in the clutches of Snidley's evil, suckery mouth. What the hell kind of snail do we have?? We live with the fear that we may be next. We dutifully feed Snidley, not wanting him to become...hungry.