bridgecrit

Goldfisch.

'Hey you, over there, Mr human person thing. Hey, hey, you, you.' Sploosh.

Toby put a second teaspoon of the white stuff in his coffee and looked out the kitchen window.

'Hey you, bastard, motherflipper.' Sploosh.

The funeral was over, vol-au-vents consumed, now Toby was alone with his thoughts. He felt a tear roll down his cheek for the first time since that phone call from the hossie exactly 3 weeks to the day.

'Hey come ere you, get ya arse erm, hey, hey...over here.' Sploosh!

Toby walked over to the bowl and scattered a handful of arsenic across the surface of the water.

'Idiot.'

Chomp.

'Sucker'.

'Chomp.'