a few weeks ago, my plecostemous (i know that i've spelled that horribly, horribly wrong, and i don't care) died. he had gotten pretty big, and i felt guilty for never having named him, or the other two normal-type fish in the tank. since it was a little late for giving him a name, i decided to get rid of the carcass before it made the tank smelly and gross and... fishy. turns out with the strange optical tricks that water plays with your eyes, he was a lot bigger than he even looked. and he didn't fit in the little net i have for scooping out fish that don't survive. so he was precariously perched lying flat across the top of the net while i ran to the bathroom for a burial at sea:
slosh... i don't think he'll flush, mom.
: is he bigger than a turd?
: just flush it, and we'll go from there.
...he's still there. he didn't bend like i thought a recently deceased fish would.
well, we ended up yelling for dad, and he did with the fish what he does with all the birds that drown in our pool- put him in the pool skimmer and catapulted him into the wash behind our house. we hope the coyotes find the Body before the stupid little kids who run around back there do.
the two remaining non-pleco fish are now living in filth, until 1. i get a new pleco (unlikely) 2. i clean the filter so it runs properly (even more unlikely) or 3. they die (inevitable, and the choice that requires no work from me)