Pet Peeve

I wish I had a pet.

If I had a pet, I bet it would do something funny or charming every day that I could then turn into a funny story, or witty parable for my readers’ enjoyment. Having a pet would help me get through the days that I just can’t seem to think of something to write about. Having a pet would be cool, but having a cool pet would be better.

If I had a pet, it would be a shark.

My pet shark would live in a giant tank in my bedroom. In a 30,000 gallon tank with one of those cute scuba-diving bubble making thingies in it. His name would be Max, or Sharky.

Yeah, Sharky sounds cool.

Whenever my friends came over I would feed Sharky some poor hapless feral cat I caught lurking in the neighborhood the day before. Or, if one of my friends beat me in Halo, I’d laugh as I threw him into the tank and watched him try to out swim Sharky.

Haha. Stupid human, you can’t out swim Sharky. He’s a shark.

Yeah, if I had a pet shark I would be really cool. I bet if I had a pet shark then all those girls at the mall who whisper about me being ‘creepy’ would want to meet me. Maybe they’d even stop running away whenever they saw me in my flip-flops and trench coat ‘Peek-A-Boo’ outfit.

I bet they’d even start returning my phone calls.

And you know what would be really cool? If I had a motorcycle. That’s because if I had a motorcycle, I could wear a leather jacket and become famous for jumping my motorcycle over Sharky’s tank. Then all the girls would swoon and let me touch them in their secret places.

Just thinking about it makes me feel all funny inside.

And, after I jumped Sharky’s tank on my motorcycle, whenever some pathetic schmuck wrote me an email telling me that my site sucked because I didn’t make him/her laugh anymore, I could just smile and nod my head. Because, you understand, I had jumped the shark so some anonymous idiot telling me that my site had done so wouldn’t make any difference to me. I would smile knowingly, nod my head and blithely go about my business.

But I can’t do that now, you see.

I can’t do it because I don’t have a motorcycle, or a leather jacket. And I certainly don’t have a pet shark named Sharky. All I have is myself and my silly sense of humor and a driving need to write stupid things for faceless people all over the world. So, as it is that I don’t believe that I’ve jumped the shark, and I don’t believe I’ll ever have the opportunity to do so, I feel there is only one thing I can say to this faceless, nameless, anonymous person. If you don’t like what I write, then don’t read it.

Or, in other words, “Frick you, you frickin frick.”