So you got your head stuck in a fishbowl. What are you going to do about it? Don't look at me; you got yourself into this one. You just couldn't leave well enough alone. We were having a perfectly pleasant Monday morning until you had to go and take your shirt off and threaten to stick your head in that fishbowl. Not my fault. I was just sitting here eating my bagel and the next thing I know I hear, "You think you're bad, C? You ain't so bad!" Then SPLASH, your head is in the fishbowl. Sure, you might have felt "bad" when your face first hit the water, but tell me, how "bad" do you feel now? I bet not. But I'm not going to rub your face in it. That's not my style. Plus I don't know how much longer you can hold your breath. One question, though: Where did Emery go? Keep thinking I'll see him swim by your nose, but nope, haven't seen him. I've checked the floor and couldn't find him, so he's either in the bowl or in your mouth. I for one hope you didn't swallow him because Emery really deserves better than that. Not to mention he was a gift from my great aunt, Marjorie. You know, the one who died in that blimp accident. The second blimp accident, I mean. Aunt Josephine died in the fist one. I hate blimps. But, yeah, it really would suck if Emery became an innocent victim of this poorly planned show of machismo of yours. Sure, he has fish diabetes, but apart from that his quality of life before this incident was quite good. So, yep, I'm really disappointed in you this time. I know I promised a pep talk, but frankly, I'm don't think you deserve one. I'm going to call 911 and then finish my bagel out under the veranda. If I hear thrashing, I'll just assume the worst. Either way, I hope you've learned your lesson this go around.