The 13 Cent Guilt Trip

Mom says to Dad, "wouldn't it be cute if we bought Bridger a fish?". One hour later, we find ourselves at Petsmart. Enter fish lady, sporting fur balls in her tangled, unkempt mane, wearing a visibly dirty shirt and a perma-scowl. She is most certainly an employee of Petsmart. Her one function...oversee the fish department, which for the life of me, still doesn't explain the fur balls in her hair. Our convo went something like this:
Me: can we get one of those goldfish?
FL: mmm are you putting it in THAT? (referring to the gallon sized fishbowl in my hands)
Me: uhh yeah.
FL: *raising eyebrow* *audible sigh* "oooookkkkkaaaayyyy.".
Me: why? What would you recommend I put in this bowl?
FL: In THAT bowl?....nothing. Maybe a beta, or a fish that doesn't do anything.
Me: *wondering what she knows about fish activities that I don't*
Kelly: how long will it live in that bowl?
FL: *casting a disapproving glance at my child who is anxiously pointing and shouting "Pish! Pish!"* Ohhh maybe a year...
Me: we'll take it. Just one of the $.13 multi-colored ones, please.
FL: *sigh* just so you KNOW, if you don't move him into another bowl soon, his body will grow, but his intestines and stomach will not and the pressure will cause his guts to squish up into his head and he will explode and die. Just so you know.
She shoves the little bag containing my 13 cent fish into my hands and walks away.
I left Petsmart feeling as though I had just stolen food from a starving third world child. Then realized, it's a 13 cent fish FHS!! So. Here he is. His name is Spock. And so far, he has managed NOT to explode.