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Huge Bayern Munich fan. |
DREXEL HILL, PA
Franck Ribéry Jr. – my pet fish – passed away on Wednesday.
He was 5½ months old.
Franck (also known to his friends as Fwanck, Franky and
Franck Ribéry Joons) was an avid swimmer who also liked to eat bloodworms, make
bubble nests and rest in his little fishbowl tree. He was a caring friend, a
loyal companion and a semi-interesting Twitter follow. Franck was my best
friend.
Franck loved to swim. He lovvvvvved to swim. Forward,
backward, darting from one side of the bowl to the other … and he was good … probably
the best swimmer I’ve ever seen. Watching Franck swim around his bowl was like
watching a young Mozart conduct a symphony – smooth, always in control, but
also possibly on cocaine.
My wife brought Franck home for us in late April, a present
for my 35th birthday. Legend has it that when my wife scanned the
betta fish at Petco, deciding which one to bring home, Franck kept swimming up
to her and fanning out his blue and red fins to show her how dope he was. My wife inspected
every fish in that place, but Franck kept swimming up to the front of his
pathetic, plastic Tupperwear container to make his presence known. Then he’d swim
away by doing some sort of Carolina Corkscrew move. My wife couldn’t resist. Francky
was ours. It was the best present I ever got. And that includes the WWF
Wrestling Ring that Joe Dabakis got me in 3rd grade. I’ve never
forgotten that, Joe.
Every time I came home for the last five and a half months
Franck would swim up to the front of his little bowl to greet me. He would
totally freak out, shaking his entire little fish body like a goddamn lunatic,
doing whatever he could to let me know that he wanted some bloodworms. That guy
couldn’t get enough bloodworms. Sometimes he’d take a bite of one that was too
big and swim around with it hanging out of mouth like a blunt. He was a total
gangster – Franck didn’t care about waiting 20 minutes to swim after he ate – he
swam on his terms. If there were female fish in his bowl with him, he probably
would’ve impregnated every one of ‘em. Either that or he would’ve tried to kill
them. You never knew with Franck. He was a loose cannon.
In his last days, Francky suddenly stopped eating. I thought
it might be that he needed new water, so I changed it. I gave him different
food, checked his water temperature … nothin. Soon after, he was swimming less
and spending more time lounging in his little fish tree. On the morning that he
passed, I noticed that his breathing was labored. I didn’t know how to help
him. I thought about making him a mini-snorkel. Instead I made myself a bagel.
When I think back on Franck’s life, I hope not to remember the
struggle of the last few days, but instead the fact that he lived
every day of his life to the fullest – or at least as full as it could be for a
guy who lived in a goddamn bowl. A fish who the loved the water … a fish who
kept my brother-in-law company when he was fish-sitting … a fish who when I’d
walk into the kitchen late at night, I’d sometimes find my wife leaning over his
bowl, looking down at the greatest swimmer who ever lived.
I’ll miss you Franck Ribéry Joons.
L’chaim.
If you have any memories of Franck -- or wish to pay your respects -- you can do so in the comments section, on my Facebork wall, or at Franck's Twitter account. Thank you and have a blessed day.
Best.Obit.Ever.
ReplyDeleteBest.Swimmer.Ever.
DeleteRIP Franck. Sorry for your loss, Kevs.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Unknown.
DeleteSo sorry to hear about your fish. It sounds like he had a good life. I read that the natural environment for those fish are muddy puddles in rice patties in Siam. And when they're little puddle loses oxygen they jump to the next puddle. Sounds like a lot of work! I think he had it made in his bowl in your home...
ReplyDeleteThat would explain his ruffneck lifestyle ... you can take the fish out the streets ... but you can't take the streets out the fish.
DeleteMay his little fishy soul rest in peace, where the water is clear and free of heavy metals, and the blood worms are aplenty...
ReplyDeleteYou said it, Jeanine Garaf!
DeleteLoved you in Wet Hot American Summer!