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The Imperfect Life of a Goldfish

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Goldfish, the most dreadfully boring pet you can have. What do they do? Nothing! Nothing at all! The more I think about it the more I doubt a goldfish’s purpose in life. I absolutely hate goldfish! Especially Norman. My only pet, or should I say my once pet. It was for him that I received the name goldfish girl. How could I hate a goldfish you may ask? Well Norman was not a goldfish; he was a mischievous orange blob with fins. Third grade was the worst year of my life. If I had only known that Mrs. Davenport was setting me up for failure with the phrase ‘bring your pet to school day’. When I got home that afternoon I scrubbed Norman’s bowl. It had to be presentable to my judgmental classmates. The next day when I walked into school holding Norman’s bowl I felt on top of the world. Who knew a goldfish could make me feel so proud. One by one I watched my peers walk up to the front of the classroom with their pets. When it was finally my turn I got up and carefully pushed in my chair. Norman was placed on the back table; Mrs. Davenport didn’t want any accidents. I skipped to the back table and grabbed the bowl. I hadn’t been nervous all day but when I got to the front of the class I felt like I was trapped. I tried to talk but all that came out was stutters. ”goldfish are stupid.” I heard someone from the crowd say. My hands became sweaty, so I reached to place Norman’s bowl on the bookshelf by me. As I reached I tripped over the wire to the projector. The bowl fell over and the water drenched my pants. Laughs rang out wildly. “Nice job goldfish girl! Yeah goldfish girl! Goldfish girl, goldfish girl, goldfish girl.” From then on Goldfish girl would be my name.





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