The other day I walked past one of our aquariums and saw that one of the black goldfish was dead, floating on his back all googly eyed.

I congratulated myself on noticing and debated whether to flush him down the toilet. I chose to leave him there because a) I didn’t want to fuck up the plumbing and b) maybe Chris wanted to say goodbye one last time, perform a special ritual, have a fish funeral or something (I’ve been to a bunny funeral so it’s not farfetched).

I messaged him at work and told him about it and then promptly forgot about it. Two days later he slyly mentioned that said fish was in fact alive and swimming around happily in the tank. Shocked, I went to check and there he was (I know because we had two black goldfish and they were both there, it wasn’t like I could pick it out of a lineup or anything). He then explained that he (the fish) had been having problems with his swim bladder (which helps with them stay upright) so he starved him for a couple of days and fed him a frozen pea and he was right as rain.

I decided on the spot to name him Lazarus. Nothing could be more fitting. Plus I like to name the fish (they always seem to die when I do that though) so that’s his name. And since I can’t tell them apart they’ll both be Lazarus. Lazari. Let’s see how long they last. I’m taking bets.