4/11/16

I have live fry in my mouth. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to convince Beetlejuice (the obnoxious jerk) to breed again. I had to be extra sweet, and unfortunately, people noticed. But I must have children! I deserve to be loved, and I deserve to be able to love, and since Beetlejuice is such pond scum…

I’ve gone three weeks without food, and I may have swallowed a fry or two…maybe seven, but I don’t want to let them out. The last time they left my mouth (stupid authorities stripping them from me) I didn’t see them again. It broke my heart. Puck has informed me that my children are the five little brats swimming around. I don’t care if they look like me; my kids would never act in such a way. I’m SO hungry.

4/18/16

They did it again! The authorities took my fry. The babies got too big, and for the briefest moment, five of them leaked out of my mouth. I’m sure the doctor would be affronted by having someone rub their mouth on the sides and underneath until they couldn’t stand the tickling and open their mouth like they do to me. The doctors did feed me after my anxiety calmed down, and that was wonderful. I think I found my kids, too. They’re in one of the vile prisons, but they look good, and nobody can get to them. I can also hang out next to them, so I guess it isn’t too bad. Now that I can see them, however, they look just like their father…not one looks like me! Very ungrateful of them. 

Speaking of their father, he’s refusing to look at me. Our therapist told him that his lack of attention is precisely why I act the way I do and that he should try harder to be more attentive. He’d grunted when she said this—meaning he agreed to do better—so why isn’t he? I don’t know why we are going to counseling when he doesn’t do what she tells him. 

Actually, she isn’t that great of a therapist. She told me that by nagging him constantly, I was the main contributor to our fights. She obviously isn’t the affectionate type, and so doesn’t understand that if you aren’t needling the fish you want to mate with, you don’t get anywhere. I’ve tried to point this out a couple of times, but all she’s done is deflect or attempt to have me brainstorm different ways to get attention. She just doesn’t understand how dumb Beetlejuice is. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the counseling sessions aren’t working. I’m also starting to wonder if Beetlejuice is worth chasing. If I don’t get to keep my kids, and all he does is ignore me, why am I wasting my time? –N. Smee 

3/28/16

Smee propositioned me once again. Her constant needling until I lose my temper, her pathetic display when I rip her fins to shreds so she’ll leave me alone, and the authorities constantly blaming me for our problems should be enough to get me from ever glancing in her direction. But, gah, it’s nice to have a cordial day and evening with her, and I enjoy our little fry—mostly. Like the hypocrite that I am, I couldn’t help but give in.

If Smee does it right like she did last time (I’m still shocked she had it in her to hatch those eggs without harming the babies), we should have more little ones in a few weeks. I wonder if there’ll be room for more? I overheard the authorities talking at length about finding the kids new homes, but none of my firstborns have been removed. Out of 16, only 5 are left. Although, I suspect that they all would be alive if they’d stayed in the breeder net until they were bigger. However, having been in the breeder net, thanks to Smee, I can’t blame them for escaping.

I am concerned about Smee’s mothering abilities. Sure, she successfully hatched the babies and kept them safe until the authorities decided I broke her jaw (I don’t care what the therapist says; I don’t think I’ll ever get over that insult), but Smee doesn’t seem interested in the kids now. Granted, she’s on the other side of the barrier and the babies never visit her, but when she sees them, all she does is scowl. Now that I’ve thought about it, I don’t know why she wants more kids. I just realized that she may be using me for sex, and like a dup, I haven’t noticed until now…Never again! I don’t care how well therapy is going (ha, that’s a laugh. She’s so mean to the therapist, I’m surprised that she hasn’t been kicked out. The authorities must be spending a lot of money on these sessions). I’m done with her. —Beetlejuice

Journalist Kyle Sand abandons The Bubbly Review

Despite being rehired to keep The Bubbly Review open during Christmas week, Kyle Sand refused to come in, stating: “All the other journalists got the week off. It’s only fair that I get the week off, too.” 

He then slammed the door in the editor-in-chief’s face. 

“Although we originally fired him for his pyromaniac tendencies, this attitude of Kyle’s has always been a problem. One day he demanded a raise because the journalist whose desk is next to his won the Best Vocabulary award. He reasoned that because his colleague always looked up words for him, he was the reason his colleague’s vocabulary was so good,” a spokesperson for the review said. It is unclear if Mr. Sand’s breach of contract will get him fired, but if he worked at Algae Chronicles, he’d never have been rehired in the first place. 

Beetlejuice and Smee engaging in PDA.

We were all doubtful that couple’s counseling would help Beetlejuice and Smee work out their differences. However, it appears that it has worked. Perhaps the loss of all but five of their children (Inspector Fishnet still has no leads) has helped this quarrelsome couple come to terms with each other and be cordial…or maybe it’s a little more than that. The other day, everyone watched the two in utter astonishment as they cuddled together in one of the caves. By the wobbling and tottering swim they took to get to the cave, some were pretty sure that they were both smashed, others begged to differ. 

“They aren’t inebriated. I know that look. Those two are making babies. Not that I know exactly what that’s like. Sassy being gone and all. But when you want children, you do your research,” said Madame Geoffery. “Do you not know how to use the internet?”

The couple stayed together for several hours before Smee decided to return to her side of the divider. Authorities are optimistic that the two will stop their war and stick to using their words when they have a problem. We, along with the other residents of the tank, think that they are as naïve as ever, and yet, we are also hoping that the violence is over. 

—Algae Chronicles

The journalists at The Bubbly Review decided to join NaNoWriMo and commit to enjoying the trials, tribulations, and midnight weeping of writing a novel in thirty days At first the editors of The Bubbly Review were fine with this, until it became obvious that the journalists’ were going to complete NaNoWriMo at the cost of everything else. Now we have no one reporting on the supermax prison palace or the watery neighborhood.

We appologize for any and all inconviences that this may have caused and ask our readers to be patient. NaNoWriMo ends in five days and then all the journalists will be back to work. Except for Kyle. He’s been fired.

Birth Announcements

As The Water Swirls neighborhood welcomes sixteen black and white Frontosas to their spacious twenty-eight-gallon tank. We aren’t exactly sure when they were born, but they emerged from the protection of their mother’s mouth last night at 7:17 p.m.   

Proud Papa, Beetlejuice hangs out underneath the breeder tank. If he sees the authorities look over, he does a little happy dance to get their attention and then looks at his kids.

“He’s pretending he’s pleased about having sixteen children,” PUC told us. “He’s been hiding all week. That’s not being excited about babies. That’s shame.” 

The sixteen kiddos find the authorities super cool and swim up to them whenever they look in on them. If the authorities put their hands in their safe haven, they immediately surround the hand and you can hear little voices squeal:

  “OOo what’s that?”

 “I don’t know can we eat it?”

 “Try it!” 

“No, you try it.”

Mama Smee is understandably starving but otherwise doing well despite the broken jaw misunderstanding with her doctor.

We congratulate the neighborhood’s worst couple and heartily hope that they go to a couple’s therapist to find a way to resolve their differences and co-inhabit in the same space.

We also extend our condolences to Madame Geoffrey, who’s been staring at her greatest nemesis’s babies from her lonely home in the Palace. We understand that she has wanted babies for a year and a half and this is a low blow for her.

—The Bubbly Review

After practicing jaw alignment movements with my thumb and forefinger, I prepped the tank for Smee’s procedure by putting Beetlejuice in jail. After removing the partition and catching Smee in the net, I held Smee while I massaged her jaw. I’d hoped that she would open her mouth a tiny bit so I could push her jaw back into place. She did not cooperate, so I changed tactics and placed my fingers on her lips, hoping to get her to bite me, and then I could push her jaw back into place. She refused, so I did a combination of massage and “knocking on her lips.” Finally, her mouth opened and…out popped a baby! I screeched and released Smee. The smart baby swam back into Mom’s mouth. 

Confused, I looked from Smee to Beetlejuice.

“But…but you’re supposed to be blue with a big knot on your head! Everyone agrees with that,” I said to Beetlejuice. I may have been yelling because I got the attention of my spouse, who was on the phone with the inlaws, who were, in turn, wondering what the problem was and if they could help from two states away. “And you hate her!” I continued, pointing at the ugly partition. “If you’re going to do that, at least be cordial to her.”

Beetlejuice didn’t even have the decency to look abashed. 

Obviously, the cute baby couldn’t continue to live in mom’s mouth. It was already too big to fit in there comfortably. Frustrated, I let King Beetlejuice out of jail and put Smee in before holding her still. Trying to coherence her into opening her mouth again was a lesson in patience. When I was finally successful, a ball of eight babies spewed out. I screeched again and dropped Smee, who successfully stuffed two of the babies back in her mouth, before I caught her up again. I regarded Smee and wondered if I should let her keep the two babies, thus condemning them to die as soon as mom got too hungry or they got too big to fit in her mouth. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if the two little ones died, so I recaught Smee and massaged her mouth again. By now, she was resigned to the procedure and didn’t thrash, but to say she wasn’t ticked off would be a lie. It took a little longer, but then eight (yes, eight) more babies shot out of her mouth.

“You got any more in there?” I asked, and I could tell by the silent treatment she gave me that I finally had all the babies. I put the partition back and placed Smee on her side. I couldn’t place the breeder tank with her because I wouldn’t be able to feed the babies if I did. I assured her that her babies would be safe. She doesn’t believe me, and secretly, I don’t believe me either.

Dr. Nursey (a.k.a Authority #1 who thought Dr. Nurse Shark was a good pseudonym)

Ninja Smee’s chart

This evening, I noticed that Ninja Smee’s jaw was sitting slightly crooked and jutting out, and she could barely open her mouth. I might not have noticed if she hadn’t wiggled through a gap in the tank divider when it was dinnertime and swam up to where the food caught the current from the filter, where she tried to get a piece of food to float into the small opening of her mouth.

I inspected Smee’s mouth and ticked off all the things that might be the matter. The first thought was eggs, but the mouth is too far extended and not fully closed. She can eat if she can get a piece of food to fit through the small opening. My experience with Madame Geoffrey tells me this is not a case of eggs, as the hopeful mother does not eat (or try to) while trying to hatch roe.

After spending a considerable amount of time researching causes of cichlid jaw issues unrelated to babies, I believe I have diagnosed the problem. Queen Beetlejuice must have dislocated the Ninja Smee’s jaw during one of her escapes from behind the partition. Thankfully, there are ways to realign a fish’s jaw. Unfortunately, I have no experience with fish dislocations and need to read up on how to fix the problem without breaking the jaw. I’m a bit concerned about the outcome since I won’t be able to practice on something non-organic before I take Smee’s jaw into my hands, but what can one do? I’m also looking into how to care for a fish with a broken jaw, just in case I get this wrong. I’m convincing myself that I am not nervous, and all the hours I put in to become a doctor have prepared me for the surprises that no one thinks to read about on the internet before they occur.

I’ve scheduled Smee’s jaw procedure for sometime tomorrow evening. She doesn’t know this yet, but I fear if I tell her, she’ll allow her white coat syndrome keep her from getting treatment.

Dr. Nursey (a.k.a Authority #1 who thought Dr. Nurse Shark was a good pseudonym)

The situation in the Supermax Prison/Palace of Pain reached a crescendo last week. Authorities finally confronted their dark side and realized that Brain/Einstein was in danger of dying and maybe they should care a bit more. The failure of getting FishFlash to risk their lives to bring him his food probably helped them reassess and turn to the light.

They moved Brain/Einstein back into the big tank earlier today, leaving Madame Geoffrey as the sole Palace resident. The move caused an uproar with PUC and Sweettart and they rushed to the complaints department. Beetlejuice and Smee hardly noticed. Milktoast, observer of all drama, cast a quick glance his way and then went back to cleaning the barrier net. Brain/Einstein, sufficiently subdued after his stint in the supermax house of pain, has moved into a dilapidated plant and kept to himself.

“What was the point of them taking him away, if they are just going to bring him back!” Sweettart said, scales flashing.

“Sure, he’s being good now, but it isn’t going to last. He was incarcerated for a reason.” PUC said, giving the authorities one of the best stink eyes we have ever seen. 

“He deserved whatever Madame Geoffrey was dishing out. Why is he a sudden favorite? He doesn’t talk to the authorities, like, ever,” Sweettart continued. 

“You don’t talk to them either,” Milktoast said as she swam by.

“Keeping score, are you?” Sweettart shouted. PUC grabbed her before she could go after our favorite algae eater, putting an end to the interview.

Meanwhile, Madame Geoffrey is thrilled to be alone. She plays a new game called “talk to the authorities at the end of the hall.” We aren’t sure who created the game, and when we asked, the authorities said that the game came about organically and wasn’t a conscious thing. 

“We say hi from the other end and she says hi back, or she wiggles at us and we say ‘hi Madame Geoffrey.’ She is always watching us and it’s super sweet. We’ve also noticed that she likes to watch tv with us. Who knew she’d be so much by herself?”

 –The Bubbly Review