Three weeks went by. A whole three weeks in which nothing bizarre happened in the Fish Tank of Horrors. Then, I went and opened my mouth (well, technically fingers) to Trannyhead, and you know what happened.

A new kind of bizarre.

First of all, how about a couple of updates?

Belly and The B*tch (the maroon clownfish): I had full intentions of returning The B*tch, really I did. She was all bagged up, with the bag just floating in the tank, carefully rigged so that she would get fresh water and manage to stay alive. All I had to do was whisp through the house, grab her bag, and whisp down to the store. I figured I would do it tomorrow. And a day passed by. I thought, "tommorow." Then another passed by. Then yet another. And a few more after that. (I'm really good at procrastinating.) Then a weird thing happened: she figured out how to escape. And? She did not tear Belly to shreds. Apparently, spending a week in a plastic bag taught her to cool her jets. So Belly and The B*tch are now co-existing in the Saltwater Fish Tank of Horrors. They still don't like each other, but rather than acting like a couple of gang-bangers, they now act like an old married couple. Every once in a while they cross the line and end up in some sort of domestic dispute, but mostly they are OK. I think that means that Belly has grown a pair of cajones, but it's not like I'm about to personally inspect his nether regions and confirm.

The Worms: Have vanished. Like, totally. The last time I saw one was about two weeks ago, and I caught that bugger and let it die a slow painful death. I attribute the disappearance of my biggest obsession to two things. For one, a while ago I figured out where a large number of them were living and picked off over a dozen in one day. I enjoyed every second of it, too (imagine maniacal laughing--yup, that's me!). Around the same time that happened, we bought a new fish named Darryl (he is a Strawberry Pseudochromis). Darryl is a known worm eater. He was the fourth in a long line of attempts at buying a worm eater, but he has managed to survive. The worms have not. BWHAHAHHAHA!

Speaking of Darryl, here he is:

In front of Darryl is the newest addition to the Fish Tank of Horrors. That white squiggly line on the glass appeared on Tuesday. Upon close inspection, I realized it was eggs. Yes, EGGS. Cause, you know, I absolutely needed to have eggs magically appear in the tank when I had no freakin' idea what put them there.

Of course, I did what anyone would do when faced with a emergency fish tank mystery on their hands, I asked Dr. Google the marine biologist. First he told me I was smoking crack if I thought they were shrimp eggs (wishful thinking, and not of the edible sort--when I wishful think of food, it involves chocolate). Then I thought, hey, maybe Belly and The B*tch have been getting it on when I wasn't looking. Old married couples do that once in a while, you know. Sadly, that also was not the case. I scoped out whether or not it could be worm eggs (shut up, Mr. Husband, I don't need to be told worms don't lay eggs, I figured that out). Nope.

(Wanna know how the worms reproduce? Of course you do. Little pieces fall off of them and become new worms. YUMMY!)

Finally, it dawned on me. Who in that tank actually spends time on the glass? The snails of course. A few clicks later, Dr. Google confirmed that we do in fact have snail eggs in the tank.

I know, that doesn't seem all that horrific.

But! What if all those eggs survive? Is it going to be like snailapalooze in there? Will they take over the tank? Will they figure out how to combine forces and lift the lid so that they can escape and wreak havoc on the Toddler's room? While she's sleeping? Or, will the eggs hatch only for the fish to decide they are hungry for escargot? None of the above?

Only time will tell.