One of my catfish, Frost, died the other day. He was about 11 years old, which is pretty good for his species.
Frost was the definition of catfish badass. He slept all day, partied all night, and cared about nothing but his boats and hoes. He became a bit withdrawn after being busted and convicted on possession of a controlled substance, but he didn’t let that keep him down. Unfortunately, all of the hard living eventually caught up to him. His body was laid to rest in the front yard next to “White Mike” and “Big Toe” and his best friend, Catfish Gunther prepared a short speech:
“Frost had lived an amazing life even though it was rather short. Frost was a great friend; he was the kind of friend that stands by you when you need somebody to be there. He once saved my life. We were both young kids then and we weren’t very close. I was hastily walking across the street when Frost saw a speeding car. If it wasn’t for Frost, I would have died right there. That’s how I became close to Frost. Yes, that was 10 years ago and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”
Pretty crazy, considering fish cant talk, or have legs. Something told me not to kick it with those spider monkeys.
