Life

This previous Saturday, my roommate Ray decided to clean out his frog tank. The occupant of the tank, one Gordon, had been purchased at the start of term. He was our constant companion in all endeavors, and better still, he looked like a cartoon frog.

With our assistance, Ray poured out the water and frog from his tank into a plastic cup and then set about cleaning the tank. As he was cleaning, Gordon, in a stroke of inspiration, realized that there was no longer a ceiling above his head. The sky was the limit, and he was going to reach for that. With amazing strength, he leaped out of the cup and landed.......

on the floor. At this point, Gordon goes, "Shit. I am an aquatic frog." Gordon begins hopping feebly across the floor as his lung thingies dry out. Luckily, we notice his escape and deliver him back to the cup. Ray fills the tank quickly with tap water and puts Gordon back in.

It was too late. Gordon had had a taste of freedom and, despite (or maybe because of) the deoxygenation he must have suffered the first time, Gordon was intent on escaping. He swam repeatedly to the top of the tank, every time being pushed back by the cold, hard ceiling. Finally, in a fit of exhaustion, Gordon drifted slowly to the bottom of the tank, never to rise again.

Gordon's passing was a sad moment for all of us, and we felt we had to give him a proper goodbye. My roommates, my neighbors and I headed off with Gordon to the nearby bathrooms for the funeral service. However, when we saw that the bathrooms were occupied, we spontaneously decided to run to the Charles River. There, from atop the bridge, we spoke solemn words over Gordon's body and poured it into the Charles.