VOL. 25, ISSUE 2 Thursday,February 21, 2008 SINCE 1973

Maglev to Shambala with Kevin Paquet

Fins of Clay

Kevin Paquet

Eric has decided we need a goldfish. Eric is the design guy at the JSC Print Shop, where I work. He sits at his Mac all day and designs those pamphlets you get in your mailboxes and immediately throw out. My job is to fold them.

The Print Shop is located entirely underground, and as a result, we have taken certain measures to liven the place up. The goldfish is going to replace the lava lamp we found in the hall, whose hypnotic powers are kind of distracting.
I’m looking forward to this, because not only is a goldfish more fascinating than a lava lamp (though only slightly), it’s also only slightly harder to maintain. If they made creationism kits the way they make model car kits, the goldfish would probably be marked Skill Level One, No Glue or Soldering Required.


Of course, I’d still end up with a few extra parts and a goldfish that can only swim in circles because my assembly skills leave something to be desired, but that doesn’t matter. I think the chief purpose of the office goldfish is solidarity. “It’s just you and me, buddy. One of these days, we’re going to break for the open road. And, sooner or later, I’ll get around to installing your other fin.”


I got my first goldfish in kindergarten – mercifully, it came pre-assembled. For reasons that were hazy even then, one day each of us was given a goldfish. Maybe a pet store had too many of them and was giving them away so it could write them off on its tax returns. Anyway, we were each allowed to select a fish and take it home.
Drawing of a doghouse with Goldy written on the top, and a goldfish in a bowl chained to the house.

 

drawing by Hilary Haward

 


Though all the other students’ fish perished early on, I discovered that I actually had enough of the “right stuff” to sustain the existence of an animal that was about as complicated as an inkjet printer. This is not to impugn the fish-tending skills of my peers, all of whom were better coordinated and organized than I. No, I think it’s because my parents were actually doing most of the work.


This fish lived for four or five years, and in that time was joined by a bevy of other goldfish, as well as some small river fish that we would catch and stick in the same tank. All in all, we had a standing goldfish population that lasted until I hit middle school. Simply put, one day my father changed the brand of fish food and the next day all the fish were dead.
So now I’m gearing up for the Second Coming of the Goldfish. Eric has put out a tips jar on the Print Shop windowsill, and if you want to, you can donate funds so we can purchase money to buy “Hammy,” which is what he’s decided the fish will be called. Somewhere in a pet store, there is a fish that doesn’t yet know its name is “Hammy.”
If you’d like to donate money, just stop by some time. We also accept tanks, nets, filters, water, and hope. Lots and lots of hope.