They splash around wildly, soaking you from head to toe as they churn and twist viciously trying to escape as you extract them from the water.
They are cold, and slippery, and it seems that the closer they get to dry, the more agitated they are until they give one final burst of wailing, with their head turned all the way around, one last valiant attempt to bite your hand off, and they give up.
Of course, the fish doesn't then sit and pout while she gets covered in lotion and put in her pajamas.
But you know, pretty much the same thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment