And, it's back!

Just when you thought there was nothing more that could happen in the Fishtank of Horrors, a new twisty poo has occurred.

(If you're newish here, there's background here and here. Basically, it's a saltwater tank that doesn't know how to be boring. I LURVE the drama!)

This morning I sauntered into the Toddler's room to feed the fish. Belly (the 1st maroon Nemo fishy) came barreling up to the top, wiggling it's tail and oh! so! eager to see me! Darryl the Worm-eating Stud came darting out. The (nameless) Tiger Goby flitted out, too. There was only one fish missing.

The B*tch.

This was odd. Very odd. The B*tch earned her name because she is the Master of the Saltwater Tank of Horrors. She rules that roost with an iron fin and isn't above smacking the others around a bit if she doesn't like what they are doing. Someday The B*tch will be entering a treatment program for fish who commit domestic violence. She's MEAN. I glanced around in the tank for a minute thinking surely The B*tch couldn't be that good at hiding.

She was nowhere to be found.

So, I sprinkled in a little flake fishy food. Belly chomped and chomped and chomped like a fish on a mission. THAT was strange. Very strange. The B*tch usually gets pissed when Belly eats and a little altercation nearly always ensues. It's kind of like when the fat hooker gets caught by her pimp at the buffet, except that Belly is really a very healthy weight. And not a hooker. As far as I know.

Anyway, I managed to make myself 30 minutes late for work visually scanning the tank for any sign of The B*tch, only to find none. Admittedly, I assumed she was dead and figured I would find her eventually.

After work, I returned to the Fishtank of Horrors. Still no The B*tch. A piece of coral had fallen to the sand bed, so I figured I would fix that and dig around and see if I could find The B*tch under a rock or behind some coral or something.

I found her all right.

The B*tch was COWERING under a rock. By cowering I mean that fish was shaking in it's boots. I chased it out of the little cavern and then it happened.

Belly.

Belly went rushing over to The B*tch and bullied her back into hiding. So I bullied The B*tch back out. Belly bullied her back in. Again and again and around and around we went until I finally decided to just let The B*tch hide if she wants to. Whatever.

The victim has become the aggressor. The pimp has become the hooker hiding under the bed.

(BTW, the snail eggs from our last installment became a tasty Scooby snack for something or other.)