The Lunatic just doesn’t quit.

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting on her desk, minding my own business like usual, when she came home and plopped this down beside me:

That, Dear Three Readers, is a “fish tank,” according to the Lunatic. But who can be sure if that’s true or not, since she cackled maniacally after saying it. Although, the maniacal cackling was probably because she put this horrid, evil thing in there:

She calls it “Julian,” but I call it “OhmyFicuspleasesaveus!!!”

Seriously. That thing is going to kill us ALL. And when it's through, it will probably come to the homes of everyone reading this and kill them, too. It's EVIL.

So of course the Lunatic loves it.

Also, the bright-colored things floating around in there are called "fish." This is the one she calls Norman:

Norman is far too hyper for my tastes. He never stops moving, and the whole time he's moving, he's giving a running commentary of every thought that enters his microscopic brain: "HimynameisNormanimafishlolwowleavesohcoolbrightlightSHINY!!!"

Then there's Walter:

He's at least quieter than Norman, although he's kind of stuck up. Won't even try to carry on a conversation with a friendly plant; just turns away to pose in front of the glass some more.

But the real problem, Dear Readers, is the greenery. You see all those nice-looking plants in there? DON'T BE FOOLED. Bastards, every one. Here I am, excited to see a few of my own kind in this Ficus-forsaken place, and thinking we can commiserate about the Lunatic and our terrible, desperate situation.

Instead, these jerks just ignore me. Won't even give me a simple "Hello." What the HELL? These guys are too good for me? Well, fine. I'm GLAD the Lunatic drowned them and stuck fish in with them. Serves 'em right.

They're probably in cahoots with Julian, anyway.