(diaryland) September 02, 2004 - 11:04 a.m.

Roland thinks he might have killed his brand new sea monkeys already. I hope it wasn't my fault.

I thought that maybe they were clued into the vibe that I hated them and they withered and died after they'd just got born.

Well, I'm kidding. I don't actually hate them all that much. It's more a love-to-hate sort of thing.

But when my sister had them, it was kind of disturbing. She kept them in the kitchen on the window sill. Their little tiny black, beady eyes would stare and stare. And their transparent wiggly things on the sides would tremble menacingly, unceasingly. Also, for some reason, I really didn't like how you could tell what sex they were. I know that usually it's pretty easy to discern what gender a human is, or a horse, and that's cool, but for some reason I didn't like the way you knew whether a sea monkey was a guy or a girl. It revolted me.

But, worst of all was every time I innocently wandered into the kitchen, I'd be confronted by public fornication. Those sea monkeys sure love sex. And they don't care who is watching. Their little beady eyes stare while they swim around the tank going for it. In fact, most of the time, they would get stuck and they'd have to swim around together like that for ages. Or maybe it was just especially long tantric sex. I don't know.

After a few years, they disappeared from the kitchen bench. It was less yucky to wander around in there after that.

I'm surprised at how many people think that sea monkeys are imaginary. I can say emphatically that they're all too real. Man, I've lived the nightmare.