Fish Killer


You might remember I spoke about Chad Robuckle making fun of my fish dying in a recent post. I guess he reads my blog, cuz he sent me this angry email saying I couldn’t use his name anymore. Whatever, free country, right? By the end of the email he seemed to have cooled down and forgotten all about that, though, because he gave me another story to use.

Chad said the reason he made fun of my dead fish was only because he was upset that I had not taken proper care of it. He assumed this because, according to him, a goldfish can live for up to five years if properly cared for. He said he was just covering up because he doesn’t like to show people his real emotions. He said he felt so bad about what had happened, he cried for half an hour when he got home. What a pussy, huh?

Apparently, Chad loves fish. I don’t know if this is like a “Troy McClure/sexual attraction” thing or what, but it’s weird. I didn’t think Chad cared about anything but himself. And fish? Who gives a shit, right? He said it, himself.

Another thing Chad used to love is radio station contests. He would sit in his room by the phone, listening to the radio and try and win whatever he could. He got free bikes, dinners, CDs (or albums, back then), even money. Now, like I said, Chad was loaded, so it’s ridiculous that he would need any of this stuff. He probably threw it away once he got it. I think he just wanted to win it so no one else would.

The biggest thing Chad ever won was $10,000 cash. That’s a lot of money for anyone, let alone a six year old. Chad knew exactly what he wanted to do with his money and wouldn’t hear of anyone trying to dissuade him. I actually remember vaguely hearing about this when it happened, even though I hadn’t met him yet, it was that big of a deal.

Chad hired a dump truck to take 3000 quarter pounder with cheese sandwiches from the local McDonalds down to the ocean. All the news crews were there as this six year old made a big show of operating the dumper thing-a-mo-bob himself and sending all the sandwiches off a pier into the water.

It made a big splash and it seemed like most of the buns and wrappers and stuff floated right up to the top. The cops who had been watching realized they had just witnessed was actually a “crime” and began asking questions about who was responsible.

Well, you should have seen Chad’s parents make a break for it, leaving their six year old to fend for himself. I guess he cried like a little girl, not because he was going to jail or racking up a huge fine for his parents, but because his plan had backfired.

Little Chad had just wanted to feed the fish, you see. Not “fish food” but something good, for a change. Apparently six year olds don’t realize that fish don’t eat hamburgers. Especially not ones that are all wrapped up and in a big pile that weighs a thousand pounds and comes crashing down on them, killing them and making them float up to the top. Plus, a bunch more died from the ink in the wrappers and stuff.

All in all, it was one of the worst maritime disasters in the area, killing fish by the thousands. All cuz of Chad. He told me that as he was recalling this story, he started crying again.

What a fucking pussy.

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