They say that dog is man’s best friend, but over the last three months, I’ve come to realize that fish are man’s real best friend. My two guppies, Jeffy and Sommer, brothers until the bitter end, taught me that. We are gathered here today to give a fond farewell to our dearest Sommer, who passed away late Wednesday evening, Dec. 28.
Sommer, though you may not be here with us anymore, I know that you’re off to that great aquarium in the sky now. Though we may not have known each other for long, you left an impact on me that is hard to explain or describe in words. It is truly sad to be split apart right before the new year, but know that wherever you are, you’re in a better place (especially if the world’s about to end anyway).
From the first day we bagged you and Jeffy up from the PetSmart by Towne West, I knew that we would be friends. I always felt bad because I was never completely sure you and Jeffy enjoyed living in the bowl. I fed you every day and cleaned out the tank every week or two, even adding fresh tank decor with every water change. I gave you that little house for you to swim in and call your own, but I guess you weren’t one to be cooped up. You were always out exploring the vast, 2-gallon wildnerness of the tank with Jeffy, whom you would playfully nip at every now and then.
It was an odd relationship between you two, because I witnessed your frequent spats and nippings, but when push came to shove and the tank was being rocked around when it was being transported, you guys clung to each other like brothers.
You were always there for me when I needed someone to talk to, and those little eyes with the flapping fins are going to be hard to forget.
We’ve had our share of good times - I still remember that time when you and Jeffy got fish drunk off of some wine that found its way into your bowl. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did. That time when I tried a little bit of your food, “just to see how it tasted.” No offense, but I’ll leave it up to you guys to finish that stuff off. I don’t know if you saw it or not, but I regret that time when I was quoted in the Vantage as saying that you guys bored me. Now you’re not here to hear my apologies, but here they are.
From Sept. 27 to Wednesday, we had a good run, you and I. I hate to see it end like this, but we cannot escape the inevitable, I guess. As we go on, I’ll remember all the times we had together.
You are survived by your brother Jeffy, who is unused to having so much tank space to himself. He may not understand now but he will later. You now find yourself buried next to my old betta, Robert, in the southeast corner of my backyard. I know you never knew him, but he was your cousin in a way and was also a loyal, valiant fish. Your funeral was fairly well-attended for a fish, as three people came out to pay their last tributes to the fish that I hereby nominate for Fish of the Year 2011.
It seems only fitting that I should discover you dead, laying on one of the decorative seashells lining the gravel of the tank - a fitting end for a fitting fish.
So good night, sweet fish, and flight of angels sing thee to thy rest.
You know one thing that really gets under my skin, so to speak? Our tendency to refer to ketchup contained in packets as “fancy ketchup.” Just what makes this little packet of ketchup so “fancy,” as they say? Notice there is never such thing as “fancy mustard” or certainly not “fancy honey mustard!” I think that society is being slightly prejudiced toward ketchup and completely ignoring the other essential condiments. In the little drawer containing all the sauce packets, I’m sure all the ketchups are over in a little corner all by themselves, because they think they are so much better than the other packets in there. In response, all the other packets just let the fancy ketchups have their space - no need to start any drama. And that’s not even mentioning the regular ketchup that you pump out of the handle next to the soda fountain. What about that ketchup, huh? It has to go through its whole brief life thinking, “Yeah, I’m not good enough to be called ‘fancy.’ Please just eat me faster - put me out of my misery!” I think this sort of (dare I say) racism needs to be halted. If we as a society continue to idly ignore this issue, who knows what could happen in our sauce packet drawers? There could be “saucicides” before we know it! According to the label slapped on all of these “fancy ketchups,” this travesty has been occurring since 1986, under our noses (and in our mouths). The only legitimate solution is to petition Heinz Corporation and ask them to pull the “fancy ketchups” off the shelves of our local McDonald’s. While we are at it, the supposedly-fancy “Grey Poupon” mustards sometimes like to cause trouble on my spice racks. Do it quickly, friends. End the tyranny.
The fall winds blow coolly by what was once a joyous place. A place formerly filled with laughter and blissful awkwardness is now filled with omen and a sense of forboding. This is the scene at Camp Seikooc, a former Girl Scout camp comfortably hidden in the rear western section of Andover Central Park. What happened so many years ago is now coming back to haunt the present, as the events of the past are re-living themselves today. Many strange disappearances have been reported in the area, and dogs have gone missing and have never returned. Only one was found at the dog pound. Even I have experienced the bizarre paranormal scene at this camp, conveniently named “Cookies” spelled backwards. I have constructed a short play as to how the final events of Seicook transpired and the horrible hauntings began. It begins as so.
A dark, seemingly harmless night. One bunny rabbit appears to be jumping around, and another is takin’ a nap. Girl scouts LAURA and JEANNIE have just snuck out of their tent for a secret meeting with their gentleman caller.
LAURA: It’s been too long, Frederick. How now, brown cow?
Frederick, a slightly chubby boy of 10, responds.
FREDERICK: Hi.
A long awkward pause.
FREDERICK: Have you got the goods?
JEANNIE: I’ve got what you’ve been looking for, baby.
Jeannie takes out a tarnished cardboard box from her pocket. It is a package of Thin Mints. The expiration date is at least 3 months away from now.
FREDERICK: Yeah buddy.
Frederick grabs for the box, but Jeannie takes it away before he can grab it.
JEANNIE: Not so fast there, Dorrough. You’ve got something to give me in return before imma let you have these here Thin Mints.
FREDERICK: Oh yes, now that you mention it, I do have a parcel for you.
Reaching in his pocket, Frederick takes out his fave yo-yo.
FREDERICK: Yo yo yo, there you go, ho! Take this and let me go!
JEANNIE: Fair enough.
The two exchange their packages. Frederick starts to leave but is unable to due to high gusting winds blowing against him.
FREDERICK: Why is it so windy tonight?
LAURA: I know! It’s a tornado! Ahh!
Sure enough, a large twister has developed behind them whilst their exchange was taking place.
FREDERICK: Imma get sucked in!
But unfortunately no one was there to hear Frederick’s cry, as Laura and Jeannie had just been sucked into the tornado, along with the rest of the camp.
FREDERICK: Oh dang it! I better high tail it outta here!
Frederick starts bookin’ it out of there and conveniently the tornado dissipates for a while, long enough for him to run home.
The following day, the majority of the camp is in shambles. Errbody had gotten sucked into the tornado but Frederick. Now the town began to question: what happened??
RANDOM GUY: Hey, you there! I’m calling you out! Since you’re a bit on the pudgy side, I think it would be safe to say that you just ate them all!
FREDERICK: No!
ANOTHER RANDOM PERSON: Yeah it’s true!
FREDERICK: I don’t think so!
The public opinion of Frederick was quickly flying south, almost as fast as Tiger Woods’ reputation. Even Frederick himself was unsure. But can you solve the mystery? That’s what we all want to know.
To this day, Camp Seicook (or Camp Scare-wakani as I refer to it) runs amok with supernatural activity. Some say the ghosts of the campers either sucked up into the tornado or eaten by Frederick are still there, waiting to play practical jokes on those who visit them. I myself had the misfortune of encountering one of these ghosts. One day, I was just driving back there because I had heard the rumors of these hauntings. I was not intending on being haunted but boy howdy was I. I drove by the wooden outhouse out there, and I looked at it for a minute. After a few seconds, the door just flies open, and there is no one inside. It looked as if a hand was opening it from the inside but when I saw the inside, no one was present. To this day I believe it was the “latrine ghost” of Camp Scare-wakani, and she is a dangerous one. The smell near the outhouse was foul, suggesting paranormal activity (Trust me, I have had experience with paranormal stenches. “Haunted Locker 303 at Brooks Middle School” smelled of raw sewage just next to the locker.). I can wholeheartedly say that if one decided to camp out where the former scouts “camped,” one would not be pleased. The only people brave enough to tempt their fates are the rebellious teenage pot-smokers from Andover and Andover Central. They have braver souls than I. I would not dare be on that property after dark, as I have heard rumors of the “chain ghost” also. The chain ghost goes around and puts chain locks on buildings that are supposed to be unlocked, giving you a major inconvenience in that you cannot open that thing.
Don’t tempt the fates. Stay away from Camp Scare-wakani, at 1607 E Central, in Andover, KS.
Brilliant ways to ask that special someone to the Homecoming dance (or anything for that matter. Marriage? Yes.).
1. Fake your own death in a science experiment, and at your open casket funeral, pop up all of a sudden and pop the question!
2. Throw a tire at her and say, “You make my world go round!”
3. TP her house and write “Homecoming?” on the TP!
4. Egg her house!
5. Spell out “Homecoming?” in gasoline and light it up on her driveway!
6. Put a plate of cookies and milk in her locker and write a note saying, “All I want for Christmas is for you to go to Homecoming with me!”
7. Put an unopened pack of pudding in her driveway, because that’s how Air Bud and his owner first became friends!
8. Freeze red food-colored water in a heart shape and have a note saying “Melt me” on the top! On the inside you’ll have a note that says “Now that you’ve melted my heart, will you go to Homecoming with me?”
9. Present her a dead bird and say, “This is how I feel when you’re not around!”
10. Give her a pet snail and say “Time goes this slow when I’m around you!”
11. Give her a fish and say, “Out of all the fish in the sea, I choose you!”
12. Give her an atlas, or Google maps, and say “Our love is unchartered territory!”
13. Give her a bandaid and say, “Baby, don’t hurt me!”
14. Get a skyliner plane to hold a banner that says “Homecoming?” on it!
15. Write a ransom note in magazine letters that says, “I have your love held hostage. Say yes or the cat gets it.”
16. Give her a large blanket, or Snuggie, and say, “When you’re with me I get the warm fuzzies inside!”
17. Tie a note around her cat/dog!
18. Dress up as a frog and say, “One kiss will make it all better!”
19. Tap out the message in Morse code!
20. Waterboard her until she says yes!
(Just as a disclaimer, do all of these at your own risk. I do not claim responsibility for any breakups or personal injury or embarrassment that these methods may cause you.)
