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Monday, August 18, 2003   |    Non-Fiction


by Ray Stillman

August, 1984
Hank, beloved goldfish. He was the one with the black spot on his tail. He swam a lot. Hank died of natural causes. He is survived by his loving friends, Henry, Howie, and Harry.

August, 1984
Henry, beloved goldfish. He was the big one. He swam a lot. Henry died of natural causes. Henry will be missed by his pals Harry and Howie.

August 1984
Harry, beloved goldfish. He was the littlest one. He swam a lot. Harry died of natural causes. He leaves behind his best friend Howie.

September, 1984
Howie, beloved goldfish. The one that’s not the big one, the little one, or the one with the spotted tail. He swam a lot. Howie died of natural causes (loneliness?).

September, 1985
Mr. T, beloved goldfish. He was the big one (second generation). He might have swum a lot, if he lived more than three hours. Mr. T got stuck in the filter. He is survived by three teammates he never got to know well and a catfish.

March, 1985
Face, beloved goldfish. He was the one that was more white than orange. He swam a lot. Face took his own life be leaping out of the fish tank The guy in the pet store said goldfish do that when they are pregnant. Face might have been a woman fish. He leaves behind friends (lovers?) Murdock and Hannibal and mortal enemy, Catfish.

April, 1985
Hannibal, beloved goldfish. He was the regular one. He swam a lot. Hannibal died of natural causes. He will be remembered by his sole surviving teammate, Murdock. Catfish will not miss him.

August, 1985
Murdock, beloved goldfish. The one slightly smaller than the regular one. He swam a lot. Murdock died of starvation, presumably, because we came back from Florida and he was dead and all his food was eaten (possibly by Catfish, who is gloating).

August, 1985
Catfish, miserable catfish. He didn’t swim a lot. He just hung around the gravel. He was gross and ugly. He died because I flushed him down the toilet because I hated him. He will be missed by no one.

Ray Stillman once killed a man with his bare hands, although he is not one to brag about such things. He is an aspiring screenwriter, an inspiring poet, and a perspiring photographer. Mr. Stillman is an ex-New Yorker who now lives in scenic, sunny, star-saturated Los Angeles, in an apartment building between a bowling alley and a tatoo parlor. He often finds it difficult to resist the urge to ink "Gutter balls" across the knuckles of his left hand. He has made sweet, sweet love with supermodel Heidi Klum many, many times but, again, is not one to brag.