RIP Stripey

At the new office, we have a big, schmancy fishtank, filled with colorful, expensive fish. It's said The Fish are silent partners in the firm, and judging by the almost full-page of feeding instructions they come with, it'd be wise never to get on their bad side.

Enter Stripey, a pretty red- and white-striped fish. I told him he looked like a candy cane; he blew bubbles while swimming into the side of the tank. Sometime overnight, the rest of the tank went all Animal Planet on Stripey's striped butt and ATE HIM. When we came in this morning, he was still swimming happily around in the tank, albeit it a little (more) confused, covered in bite marks, trailing little pieces of...himself behind him. Ouch.

As the day went on, Stripey seemed less and less interested in swimming and became more concerned with keeping his fins, because his former friends KEPT EATING HIM. They followed him around the tank, nipped at his nonexistent heels, until he finally sat down on the bottom of the tank and promptly floated to the top.

By the end of the day, all that was left of poor Stripey was a fin and some scales. No one can figure out what caused his tankmates to go all Lord of the Flies on his ass, but I know one thing for sure, and that's to never be the last person left in the office with those fish.