The Important Matter of Jack the Convict

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A long time ago, I would populate my little bullshit fish tank with aggressive fish, such as cichlids, oscars, convicts, or any fish that was demented.

So, after stuffing my 10 gallon tank with as many fish possible, one little fucker made his mark. He made his “mark” by biting off the heads of the other fish, much to my wife’s dismay.

However, for me, this shit was funny. I had “Jaws” in a fish tank, on a war path, eating everything in sight. I named him “Jack,” after “Jack the Ripper.”

Within a few months, Jack was the only fish left in my tank. I kid you not, that little devil ate about 15 fish total, mainly for the hell of it.

Shortly thereafter, “The Fly” made some serious coin in the market and was moving out of the basement apartment he had been subjected to. The only problem: My wife hated Jack so much, she wouldn’t let me take him with us. So, sadly, but not really giving a fuck, I left the fish tank, with Jack as its only occupant, in my rented backyard.

Two weeks later, I returned to my old basement, in order to tie up some loose ends. Upon leaving, two little Italian girl’s (they would always come over to my house and play with my son), ages 9 and 4, ran over and said they had my fish. They said: “We thought you forgot him; so we put him in our tank. Come see.”

Uh-oh!

So, I went to their house. Their Mother, who had a heavy Italian accent, said she put my fish in her tank, “but look what happened.”

Apparently, Jack was the only fucker left in her tank too. He fucking decapitated all of her shitty goldfish, much to her dismay. She told my wife “I had those fish for 5 years.”

My wife glared at me, as if I was Jack– eating other inferior fish.

To make a long story short, I brought Jack to my new house, and put him in my new and improved fish tank. But, nothing changed. Jack would just hide in some shrub, waiting for some stupid fish to swim by, then crunch. Off with its head.

It was amazing.

However, my wife was not amused. She demanded I flush Jack down the toilet, so that she could buy “normal fish.” I said “no way, Jack is a survivor.” I followed up: “The only way Jack is going out is by the jaws of another fish.”

Big mistake.

She went to the fish store and bought the biggest fucking cichlid I had ever seen. This fucker was picking up rocks, and moving them, with his mouth. Unfortunately, sadly, Jack had met his match.

After killing Jack, my wife returned her “hit man” to the fish store, and proceeded to buy bullshit “chick fish.”

In total, Jack had murdered about 70 fish, of all variety. I remember counting them. Even when the “hit man” was ripping him to shreds, Jack fought back.

Jack is truly an inspirational figure. His “story” should be told to children, across the Nation, which entails, killing weaker fish, by surprise if needed, in order to take control of the steady flow of fish flakes that drop into the fish tank.

RIP Jack.

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