Smacking his broad gold lips, Donald did not see the malevolent look Mel gave him.
She made those babies. They should be hers for the eating, not Donald’s.
Dolefully, she plotted with the others. They shared her sentiments.
When a golden haired girl not more than six walked in with her mother screaming excitedly, “Goldfish! Goldfish!”, the plotters knew their chance had come.
When the net descended, Donald was pushed and shoved. Next he knew, the girl was staring at him with glee through the walls of a clear bag. While Mel mourned the eggs she should have had.
Image credit: Pexels
Fun fact: Gold fish feed on their own eggs and those of other gold fish.
This post was inspired by Carrot ranch literary community April 26, 2018: Flash Fiction Challenge.
In 99 words (no more, no less) write a fish tale. It can be about fishing from any angle, about those who fish, or what might be caught. Go where the prompt leads.