A Story for All to Learn From

*pant* Sorry for the delay in posts, people. I was painting my school. It was a fundraiser thing. Marathon painting. I stayed up all night painting the roof. It was for a local goldfish pet store (Yup, Goldie's Tank on Main and 5th. The manager's name is Linda). I raised nearly $50. Let's just say there are now a lot of happy-splashy goldfish in Bayport now.

I once had a goldfish. His name was Bernard; he wasn't the most confident fish, but he was the goldest. I often thought it was because I fed him Moon Chunks every thirteen days. On the eve of the 4th thirteenth day, I walked into the den, only to find my brother Joe feeding him the last crumbs from a box of CheeseIts. I tried to (excuse the pun) fish them out, but it was too late.
Bernard happily munched his last cracker.
After pounding Joe and walking all over the neighborhood looking for a burial spot, I said goodbye to my first and last goldfish. You know how you can't have pet hamsters when you own a cat? I can't have goldfish when I have a little brother.