"Blob. Blob. Blob."
That's all it does.
"Blob. Blob. Blob"
A heavy sigh escaped my lips and made a small patch of mist cloud over the glass, as I sat with my face close to the round bowl. Inside, a shimmering gold fish swam in neverending circles, ejecting spirals of bubbles which glided to the surface.
I drew a small and simple fish into the clouded surface with my little finger, bored out of my mind and regretting agreeing to such a thing.
My mum had said; "Why don't you get a job? 'Cause that's the only way you're ever going to get money for those stupid boots."
By "stupid boots" she actually meant the most sophisticated item of footwear mankind has ever seen. The "Retro 9000 Rollerboots" called out to me when I first saw them on the advert. They told me that I must buy them, but what they forgot to mention was the price.
"One hundred and fifty pounds!" my mum had screamed when I told her. In fact, thinking back, she choked on her cup of tea too.
Anyway, so the only way I could get the money for the boots was if I got a job and saved up. So that's what I'm doing, looking after an old woman's goldfish while she visits her daughter in Paris.
It's so boring though. All he, Trevor, does is swim in circles and wait for the next time I feed him, when he devours every single flake in a fraction of a second.
I sigh again and stand up, reaching for my ham sandwich and taking a bite, watching Trevor bump against the side of the bowl. Peeking a glance at the clock, I gasp and realise I'm missing Coronation Street.
I ran out of my room at full speed, sandwich in hand as I practically threw myself down each step of the staircase, reaching the living room in world record time and taking a seat on the sofa, settling down as the opening scene began, peeling the crusts from my sandwich.
My cat sat and watched me, hoping that I'd be generous and share some ham with her, then giving up and walking to the foot of the staircase, glancing back at me and then trotting upstairs with a flick of her tail.
It wasn't until the end credits that she came back down, purring like the engine of a well tuned moterbike and nuzzling against my feet. She dropped something on the floor and pawed at it, lying near my feet as I watched, with mild interest. Then I saw it...
Bright orange colour. Bright orange...FIN!
"No!" I shouted, startling the feline, who scampered away quickly with her prize, still purring.
I ran upstairs to check, to comfirm my suspicions which were correct. I let out a miserable moan and sank down onto my bed, pulling out the money I had been given and putting it on the bed.
Maybe I could wash cars instead...
