Join Date: Jan 2011
Location: The Great White North (NOT Alaska)
Hamlet: Part IV
The two humans I now resided with seemed very odd compared to the other humans I had seen in my previous travels: they came and went frequently, rose at irregular hours and often stayed up well into the small hours of the morning. The scientist often seemed to be glued to her computer, doing all sorts of odd tasks. The larger human often sat staring at a larger screen at a much larger desk, while something from inside what appeared to be a thinking box made all sorts of ungodly noises. The little human called this "gaming," and the larger human often enjoyed this activity in her absence, or when the little human was busy. The longer I stayed there, on the table next to the couch, the more I came to realize that this was indeed my new home and these humans were my new keepers. I often stared at them quite intently from my jar and watched them for hours. Big Keeper was much broader in frame than little keeper, not to mention taller and paler in all respects. Her long wavy hair was a slightly lighter shade of brown than Little Keeper, and her eyes often shifted between blue and grey depending on her mood. She was the one who made the awful high pitched noises whenever she was excited. Little keeper was smaller, and her curves tended to go in more than out, but she was by no means what she called a "stick," whatever that meant. Her hair was still brown, but darker and shorter than Big Keeper's, and very straight. Just as her skin had hints of gold the way Big Keeper's was more ivory, her eyes were darker than Big Keeper's. They reminded me of Big Keeper's greatest weakness: a substance called chocolate. Just as their physiques were very different, so were their reactions to the world around them: when Big Keeper got angry, her eyes turned blue and she cried a lot; when Little Keeper was mad, her eyes sometimes seemed more red and narrowed and her face would darken slightly as her voice deepened to a growl. Sometimes she would strike at something inanimate until she felt better. Sometimes she would notice me watching her and would stare back at me until I had her transfixed by my gaze...eventually she would relax. Little Keeper seemed to want things neater, where Big Keeper seldom worried about it; eventually Little Keeper would run out of the energy required to guilt Big Keeper into helping her, so chaos eventually became the natural state of the room in which I was kept.
What made them odd compared to other humans was the thing they did for fun: they sometimes left dressed in very strange--and in Little Keeper's case sometimes very large--clothing, carrying swords and shields, only to return hours later and change back into their normal clothes. I sought to understand this behavior, but realized I probably never would without being able to follow them.
I hated water changes, but they were an inevitable part of all our lives. They would often fill a very odd looking bucket with some of my old water and use the dreaded net to put me in it. I watched them from the counter in a room they called the kitchen as they rinsed my jar, gravel and plants, when I wasn't circling angrily around trying to escape these smaller confines. I later learned that this bucket was in the shape of a "skull," and they used it because of the fictitious person who also bore my name. My plants would join me in my skull and I would eventually be taken down the dark and narrow stairs to be placed in my jar again.
Their feeding rituals were often to my displeasure: having never owned fish before, they had only the food that came with a little starter kit containing a mix of flakes and blood worms. I detested the flakes, and would often let them sink to the bottom to make a mess of my jar. Little Keeper noted this with displeasure, and set about sorting out the worms at feeding time...foolish humans. I had them wrapped around my ventral fins...