Go Fish

I am in the process of moving into my cell container in Farah. Here is my must have list:

• Campbell's soup (tomato and chicken noodle)
  
• Canned tuna
  
• Deodorant (none in Farah)
  
• Baseball caps
  
• Contact lens solution (none in Farah)
  

The last and most important thing to bring was company, as it can pretty isolated and lonely here. Which means just one thing—GOLDFISH.

I haven't had gold fish since IU, where my goldfish got me through hangovers, finals, and some very bad reactions to pizza overdose. I even hitchhiked with my goldfish, which was a big conversation starter with the drunks and drugged who picked me up. 'Man, is that a fish? Wooowwww. Hey man, this guy has a fish. Cool."

After surviving a very cold airplane ride me and my 4 goldfish deplaned. They were stars, as it appears no one in this part of the world has ever seen goldfish before or something. The reactions were much the same that I found on Highway 31 back in the day. 

The alert among you (and if you were alert would you still be reading?) will notice that fish food does not make an appearance on the list above—I somehow forgot it. Happily, I have found that Afghan bread, after sitting out 3 hours or so, provides delightful fish food—real crumby. They are happy as clams. 

All seems well. The fishies are jumping enough every now and then to make a splash. They think they are Orcas. The entire staff is scouring Farah for something that would pass for a fish bowl (I have them in a serving bowl for now). They come up for the bread crumbs as if I were feeding catfish in the Potomac channel off the back of my houseboat. Can it get better?

I think I might be able to do my time here—with a little help from my friends.