One of my coworkers lost a fish, a betta by the name of "Purple," the other day. She was taking care of it for someone else, for like about three weeks. I'd always walk into the kitchen and she's be cleaning out the tank, the fish chilling in a paper cup. We were all very impressed with her solicitude and diligence. She was dedicated to that fish's well being, I assure you.

The day before she was set to return the fish she gave the tank a final cleaning. She wanted to return Purple in the best possible condition. But it was the end of the day and she was worried the fresh water in the tank hadn't come up to temp, so she decided to leave the fish in its paper cup overnight. (Hindsight is 20/20 people.)

The next morning when she arrived at the office, Purple was completely gone. S/he was not in the cup. S/he was not in the area around the cup, or the floor, or behind the desk or ANYWHERE. The same fish tanky water appeared to be in the cup. Where the fuck did that fucking fish go?

I wish I had an explanation to offer. That fish is completely gone. So my coworker, my staff member, wound up sneaking out to Petsmart and sifting through the betta fish to try and find one the appropriate purplish shade to smuggle it back into the tank. (And let's not leave out the fact that she was training another brand new staff member whom she wound up taking with her.)

Many tense glances were exchanged among those in the know as the fish was returned to its owner, who, if suspicious, kept those suspicions to herself. Happy ending I guess? On some intuitive level I feel as if some weirdo came along and swallowed it.