Sunday, March 16, 2008

mad scientist in the fish aisle.
a variety of filters and subterranean bubblers. 
kissing gouramies, blood parrots, schools of piranha like oscars, cichlids and tiger-striped barbs. 

a small wooden desk, blotchy with chemical spills and slightly warped by accidental fish bag spills. underneath sat large empty buckets that, judging by the silhouette of the drowning toddler, once contained something hazardous. now only slippery moss and algae.
old aquarium parts, light bulb fixtures white with calcium deposits, glass feeder doors, broken aqua green nets and other bizarre equipment, some having no place in the fish aisle.

aqua boy, professor xenitor.
the stare of a man fresh out of a coma.
skin made of plastic cling wrap. stares into your soul. 
an evil telepathic super genius.

customers emitting rays or vibes that sickly resemble those of a chinese foot binder or a goatse enthusiast. obsessive, lacking some important quality