Alright, we’ve gone through the initial set up, and we’ve finished with the build-up, so it’s about time we get to the climax. Because I’ve spent the previous two entries discussing my experience with land animals, I’ll be dedicated this entry towards non-land animals. I’ve decided to combine the two together because they’re pretty short, and it’ll feel like I’ll be milking it a bit too much if I left each one in its own post.

So before we take a look at the water, we should first look at the skies. My uncle used to deal with birds, and on Daniel’s--my older brother’s--birthday, he gifted us a pair of Cockatiels. He wasn’t very happy, to be honest. Daniel is more of the athletic type, so he spent most of his time outside either biking, on a motorcycle, playing sports or renting out a boat to go fishing.

Taking care of the birds, in the end, came into my older sister’s and I’s hands. And from the very start, as soon as I heard their name, I knew nothing good was going to come out of taking care of them. Anything that has ‘Cock’ in its name was just that to me, a dick. So while taking care of them, by either refilling their food or cleaning their cage, they’d bite the hell out of me.

To be fair, I was technically their jailer, and they were literally caged birds. So if they hated me for restricting their freedom, I’d understand. However, for some reason, they treated my older sister with care and love. They won't bite her, and whenever we set them free inside the house so that they’ll stretch their wings, they’ll go crowd around her.

So after a week or so, I handed in the white towel. I couldn’t take care of ungrateful children, so I decided to have my mother help out my sister. A day or two later, the pair ran away from home. I vividly remember that the day they went missing, we’ve had chicken for dinner. (Full disclosure: I’m not sure of what we had that night. This would’ve been funny if footnotes worked properly.)

Now some small background information. In the busiest section of our village, where most of the stores are, there’s a pretty large patch of empty, unpaved land giving it a surreal feeling in the middle of ‘civilization’. On normal days, this patch of land would be used as a parking space for the frequenters of said stores. However, there’s this unwritten rule on Saturdays where it’s not allowed to use that patch of land for anything at all. And that’s because of what we called, ‘Saturday Night Flea Market’ or Saturday Market for short.

Sure, people sold old stuff or clothes in the Saturday Market like any other flea market. However, its main appeal is that it’s by the people for the parent’s[to empty out their wallets]. Of course, whatever is in that bracket is usually omitted. Anyways, the biggest stalls were those that sold candies and children’s toys. I remember opening a stall there for pirated DVDs as well, but that’s a story for another time.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

One of those games were being operated by James’ father, and it’s a game where you’d try to catch mechanical fish in a tub of water similar to this. If you managed to catch a fish, he’d get you an actual goldfish. So of course, because of my connections to James, he gave me my first try for free!

But unfortunately, that was not the case. Because if he gave me a try for free, he’ll end up giving most of the other kids a free try as well, and that won’t work since he’s running a business now would it? I had to spend my hard earned allowance on it to get me that goldfish. In hindsight, I probably could’ve gotten at least a dozen of goldfishes with the money I’ve spent on that stupid game. It was to the point where James’ father, out of pity, gave me two goldfishes to most likely ease his conscience.

However, as a child that didn’t matter at all. Pride? That word was literally not in my dictionary. Or is it vocabulary? Well, it was in neither. I was very excited when I got the goldfishes, and I quickly emptied out a flower vase for them to use as their new home. I also went out of my way to get them fish food. I was well prepared this time, because I knew for sure that these goldfishes would never be able to escape my grasps.

At that point, a wicked smile probably crept on my face. No, without a doubt it did. My mother wasn’t too thrilled for some reason though, even after I apologized for ditching her ‘precious’ flowers and using her ‘expensive’ vase for raising the fishes, but it’s not like she could cry over spilled milk.

I went to sleep that day very excited, thinking about the adventures I’ll go with Jack and John. Yes, I called them Jack and John. Come bite me. I woke up the next day (and because it was still the weekend), I immediately went to greet my new friends. Brushing one’s teeth? Hmph! No one has time for that!

And just like that, what has happened multiple times before repeated itself. This time however, I couldn’t hold myself back. I actually cried. I shouted “Jack and John! Where are they?!” as I ran as fast as possible to my mother, who was having breakfast. Without a doubt, she was the one who got rid of them. Was it revenge for the vase and flowers? But I have already apologized for that, and it’s immature of her to do something to my new friends over that.

Then, it all connected. She actually doesn’t want me to be taken over by other animals while in the house. She could stomach me being occupied with friends outside, but at home, she wanted to monopolize me!

Jokes aside, looking back at how this ended I can’t help but laugh. She, facing me who’s bawling his eyes out, said with a straight face while enjoying a boiled egg on-top of a croissant, “They ran away from home”.