Have you ever had one of those days, you know, the ones where you wake up and everything is just so out of place and wrong, you know there’s no way you could be awake. It has to be a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare. It never is though, is it? Ha ha! Nope. It never is. So here I am, attacking “my” own reflection against slightly green and slimy glass, trying to find some sort of emergency exit from this…place. This tank. My sister’s tank. Fish tank. Just stop where you’re at, don’t say another word. I’ll answer the unspoken question for you. I woke up this morning… and I was a fish. And not just any fish, either! Oh no, this is much worse than it sounds. I woke up this morning and I was a gold fish; a small, vulnerable fresh water jewel. Hurrah. I know it sounds fishy, and please excuse the pun, but take my word for it. I would not lie about something like this. By noon I’d just settled at the bottom of the tank floor, staring at my reflection with as much disgust as a gold fishy-face could ever muster. I tried to think of reasons, of ways this could have happened, but every five seconds or so I zoned, flew from my mind until I reached a land of fishy paradise. Then I’d catch myself and smack my inner self senseless. You’d think I’d still be struggling, still be swimming in lost circles the way I was in my mind, but somehow, my physical fish-self was at such a euphoric calm, it was ridiculous. A light from above the tank shone into the depths of the waters, now slightly murky, as would be expected, considering I was swimming in my own piss and…dust-like poo. What a bother. I swam towards the surface, wriggling and flailing, realizing just then how hungry I felt. This wasn’t any human-like hunger, mind you. This was…perpetual hunger, the kind that only happens when you acknowledge how long its been since you’ve eaten. So, like a god smiling down upon me, in fell the first few bits of flakey sustenance, the taste akin to saw dust, yet somehow filling. I ate and ate to my hearts fishy content, catching the bits of food between my fishy lips, the movement natural, compliments of my fishy body. I felt an emotion near peace the moment my...whatever stored my food…became pudgy and full. It was a sweet sensation, although now I couldn’t swim as well as before. I allowed body to sink towards the rocks, basking in the strange feeling of relaxation, and thusly began to zone. The movement of the water felt so lovely against my scaly skin, and at times my body drifted from here to there, back and forth; if I’d been human, I would have giggled. I was beginning to think that perhaps this wasn’t a bad role to play, I mean, come on! I had my own chef-sort of, a dark, cozy little sunken ship off in the corner of the tank, I could relieve my bowls and bladder whenever and wherever I pleased— Thud, thud, bang, thud, thud The tank began to shake. The happy feelings were gone. From the bedroom, my sister tapped the tank glass gleefully, completely oblivious to the hell she was putting me through. Thud, thud, bang, thud, thud As a darted into the sunken ship, I realized how much I would miss choking the little runt. Not that I ever did, mind you. It’s only an expression...I swear it! The tapping continued for a moment, so with my fishy eyes shut, I waited it out until the thunderous sounds subsided. When I lifted my lids again, she was staring at me, right at me, her big, frog-like eyes locked on my own small round ones. This went on for, ooh, I’d say about fifteen minutes, and every second that passed only one thing ran through my mind: Die. When she turned her back and left, relief nearly drowned me like an inescapable wave. That is, if I were human…and the wave was…okay, whatever. I’m sure you catch my drift. Turning slowly, I nestled into a snug corner of the stone ship with hopes of being left alone for the rest of the night. I still had found no answers as to how or why I was who I was now. I also wondered what would happen when my family realized I wouldn’t be…”returning” for a while. Would they think of looking for me in the fish tank? Most likely not. With a newfound respect for my fellow fish, I made a pact with myself: If I ever, ever turned back into my old, non-scaly self, I would never, never…eat tuna fish sandwiches again.