So here's the thing:

I think it's now clear that I should not be a fish owner.

Period.

Two days after I got my fish (ThunderClap and StarScream)

I returned home to see a sign on my door that read:

"Welcome to the birthing center." (Baby Mama reference).

Elated, I entered the room to find that, indeed

my fish had reproduced to form

Eight offspring.

Eight. 

Now, tucked away in the back of my brain was the knowledge that the parents will eat their young.

So, with haste, I brought the tank (coffee pot) into the kitchen to scoop out the aquatic life forms.

Got Mom (StarScream) out.

Got Dad (ThunderClap) out; however, he wasn't looking too hot.

Now came the babies. The sperm-like children were to small to use the net,

so I resorted to using a Wendy's spoon. 

A slow process, but eventually successful (mostly. Kinda).

In the process, two died. 

Through accidental squashing

and anxiety attack.

I wasn't too heartbroken, there were six more. 

I finally got them all out and scooped into a Mason jar. 

Five went in the jar and were given to The Sibling. 

But, I decided to test and see if the parent would REALLY eat their young.

 

An hour later, I came back to check on the fish in my care.

The dad (ThunderClap) was a goner. 

So I flushed him.

25 minutes later I came back, and I could no longer see the sperm, I mean baby.

And let me tell you, StarScream was acting exceedingly skittish.

She ate him.

Totally munched him away.

 

The next morning she died.

Karma finally smited her.

 

Now, through another series of events,

only two survive. 

The Sibling is holding onto them.

It's better that way.

 

Fairfarren, Dear Ones.