a friendly reminder to not touch the belongings of the ocean
Aquamarine was gone for the morning. The sea pets were left unguarded. And Wave was in a mischievous mood today.
He was also hungry. Now was the perfect chance.
He waited a few minutes after she left to make sure she was actually gone, then slipped into her room. All over the shelves of her bookcase were tanks full of aquatic life. And Wave had always had a taste for fish. That’s why he was a pescatarian.
Regardless, the fish were practically screaming his name, and he wasn’t going to let them go to waste.
Wave cautiously reached into the tank and caught several of the fish, drew them out, dropped them into a plastic bag he’s brought up with him, then brought the bag downstairs. Once in the kitchen, he plunked the bag on the counter by the stove, as if he had just returned from a quick run to the grocery store. He opened a cabinet nearby and drew out a frying pan.
To Wave, one of the greatest glories in life was a good fried fish.
He had fish. He had butter. He had frying pans. Why not make a good fried fish-- or ten? That’s exactly what happened. The fish were fried and eaten for about an hour or two.
Only minutes after he had finished this feast, Mari came through the door to find him sitting at the kitchen table with a very pale face.
“Wave?” she questioned, her voice flooded with concern.
“I… ate your pets…” he managed to croak. “I was hungry… I think I’m sick now…”
Mari glared at him, then remembered the state of her brother: sick to his stomach. “I guess we could diagnose you with seasickness since you just ate a bunch of tropical fish. Also, don’t touch the fish again.”
Wave could only nod weakly.