goldfish

When I was five, I had a goldfish named Harry. Harry was not a regular fish just like I was not a regular boy. We could talk to each other and we were each other's best friend.


One day I was watching Harry swim in his small little bowl and wanted to learn how to swim from him. "Hey Harry," I said, "Can I swim with you?"


"Sure," Harry said. "But you won't fit in here."


So then I thought abou that  big bowl that I take baths in and brought him in with me. Harry showed me how to move my arms and my tail, but I couldn't do it because my bones were weird and I didn't have a tail.


"Thanks anyway, Harry," I said, still watching him swim around my legs. "If there's anything I can help you with..."


"Actually," Harry said excitedly, "can I walk with you?"


"Sure," I said. "But we can't do it in here."


So then I took Harry out and put him on the floor. I tried to teach him how to put one foot in front of the other while keeping my body up, but he didn't have legs and his body was too big.


Harry fell down on the floor and sighed. "Let's take a break," he said, crawling into my hand. "Let's just rest."


So that's how Mom found Harry and me, sleeping on the floor next to the bathtub. She screamed and I woke up, but Harry didn't. He was still sleeping on my hand.