I have a younger brother, Kyle. I used to refer to him as my little brother, but now that he’s a foot taller than me, and is basically a fully grown adult, I suppose that calling him “little” doesn’t really work any more.
Like most brothers and sisters, my brother and I played jokes on one another, as only siblings can. For the most part, we got along exceptionally well and never had any of those knock down, drag out fights that so many siblings I know have had. But, Kyle did remind me of one of the unintentionally meanest, weirdest things that ever happened, and just how AWFUL I still feel about this to this day.
Kyle had this fish when we were little. It was a beta, and had some stupid name (sorry, Kyle) like Sharky. Sharky was a happy member of our family for quite some time, until one day, he started swimming around crazily. Seriously, this fish was losing his mind in the tank. Finally, Kyle asked me what was wrong with Sharky.
Being the older sibling, I knew that Kyle would believe whatever I told him. I decided to be a bit devious.
“Ohhh, Kyle. Bad news. When a fish swims like that, it’s bad. It means that it’s going to die. It’s getting out his last bit of energy before he dies. Sorry, bud.”
My poor little brother’s big blue eyes filled with tears.
I immediately recanted, assured him that his fish was fine, and left to go somewhere. I felt badly that I’d played a joke on my poor brother, but thought surely he’d forget about it, and everything would be fine.
Except for the fact that when I came home, THE FISH HAD ACTUALLY DIED. Kyle was inconsolable. And I felt TERRIBLE.
Thankfully, Kyle has recovered nicely and is only slightly warped. He also had several fish, post-Sharky that got along just fine, thankyouverymuch.