Rainbow Fish

Those of us who have children know all about Rainbow Fish. For those who don’t, it is supposed to be a feel-good story, apparently intended to teach the value of selflessness to kids. Personally, I’ve always found it distasteful, even faintly offensive. In the story, Rainbow Fish is a snotty, selfish fish (sel selfish fish?) with glittering, iridescent scales. Like many handsome guys, this Rainbow Fish is a real pain to be around. He won’t condescend to speak to anyone. One day, an ugly little fish starts begging Rainbow Fish for one of his scales, he refuses to give it up, and a short while later, he realizes he’s being snubbed by everybody. At this point, the story degenerates while Rainbow Fish educates himself about society. Finally, Rainbow Fish gives in and surrenders all of his rainbow scales. Now that he’s got nothing left to give, everybody’s his friend.

As a cynical old blues man (which is, actually, how I see myself) might put it, life don’t work that way. There are a number of blues songs written in this vein.

When my crib full o’ hootch
When it full o’ cocaine
I gots me pretty womens
Trine ta make me insane

When my cupboard is bare
When my bottles run dry
Ain’t no folks aroun’
To see this boy cry

Sorry. There are some good old blues songs about the subject, but they were clearly not written by me.

When I moved into my new house, recently, I found the sellers had left me their huge fish tank. And fish. Bastards. I said to my daughter, "Okay, I’ll feed them," but inside I’ve really been sort of morbidly willing them to die before I’m forced to clean the tank. Do not tell my daughter this.

The other day, while feeding them, I saw that one of the smaller fish was swimming in a noticeably lame manner. Upon closer inspection, I could see that another fish had apparently been forcibly removing his rainbow scales. I say "forcibly," because, somehow, I doubt he had given them up voluntarily. But who knows? And even if it wasn’t voluntary, didn’t it serve him right? I hadn’t noticed him acting like an asshole, but I can only assume that he had been. After all, the others were clearly voting him off the island.

The next day, at feeding time, I saw that all of Rainbow Fish’s fins, excepting the tail fin, had been nipped off, and he was swimming . . . well, sort of wiggling . . . in a rather uncontrolled fashion. At this point, even I had a hard time distinguishing him from a piece of food. Except that my own food rarely wiggles.

The third day, he was gone.

One down, four to go.