He out-did me one day of my prediction, but sadly Shawn passed away this morning at 08:42. As of yet, unfortunately no next of kin have come forward. Funeral services were held shortly thereafter in Il Latrine where he was given a washed out send off. Presumably he was met by his long-time tank friend and sparring buddy, Shane. Swim on my friend, swim on.
In the days preceding his untimely death, medicative assistance was sought after at the local pet menagerie and digestive staples supplier. As it was, Grosvenor was met with, “Ucht, they’re just cheap feeder fish — trash.”
This, as the pint-sized squires watched on.
“I could sell you the medication but it’ll cost you $7. Grunt. Groan. They’re not worth it anyway. Come back in a few weeks and I’ll set you up with some Tropicals.”
We slavelessly endeavoured to preserve your light form Shane, but were met with scoffing rebuttals and mean, snippy, hard-hearted quips. Another establishment will be frequented in the pursuit of another “bisssh” following a short but timely jaunt to another State five hundred miles to the south. The new fish – plural or singular – should be making his/her/their debut sometime in mid-August.