(Play as you read this blog, please)
You died on a Monday. EXACTLY 3 years to the day we won you at the local carnival. You hung on and fought the good fight to stay alive and avoid being another statistic for carnival goldfish suffering young deaths. I may have begged my wife to not bring you home with us, but you still found your way into our home and into our hearts.
There were many times during my unemployed days that you were the only one in the house with me. We may have had a rivalry due to you swimming around the fish tank, making noise, and scaring me. But there were also many times that you were my only friend in the house and vice versa. And remember the Roombah automatic vacuum? We both hated that son of a bitch. I may have talked to you all the time even though you never answered. But I know you answered in your own way. And it was always witty and perfect.
Sure you probably killed the other goldfish that we won at the carnival that fateful night. But I attribute that to your warrior mentality. You were always the strong one of the family. Either the matriarch or the patriarch (we never were sure if you were a boy or a girl).
Did you die because I was weak and stupid (AKA I could not figure out how to fix your filter)? Maybe. But I like to think that you died because God had a plan for you. They say that goldfish grow as big as their surroundings will allow. Well tell Jesus and 2Pac to make some space. Because Cooper Clem is about to take up a whole lot of elbow room up in heaven*. That being said, if you ever come back as a White Walker, I will re-kill your ass.
*Just kidding. We all know 2Pac is really still alive.
The Clem Report 