The Fishy Problem

I have a fish. I had a fish but he passed away from old age. Now I have a new fish and while he is very pretty, I can't seem to name him for anything. This is only a problem because my mother keeps walking into my room and doing that baby-talk thing she does to the dog and doesn't know what to call him. In absense of a name, she has taken to calling him Mr. Fishy. While I'm sure that at one point I had a fish named Mr. Fishy (at about the same point I had Mr. Big Bear, Mr. Blanket, and Mr. Sand Box), I should be able to come up with real a name for this fish.

I have considered using He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but I don't want an evil fish who will start using magic as he grows and becomes more powerful, causing me death (or at least a hiddeous forehead scar) in my sleep while he lulls about his plastic plants.

My brother, the thespian, has suggested I look for something out of a play. Like Stanley. Or Eugene. He only really wants this because he gave me the fish for my birthday and because he is a very huge Tennesee Williams and Neil Simon fan. He has other ideas, but they include Dinner, Fillet, or Stick.

In the meantime, my fish is afraid of his food. This makes me want to name him something like Anorexic or Dumbass. If you sprinkle a few granules on the surface of the water, just as the kind people at Nature's Cove Pet Store suggested, he will back away deep down to the gravel and hide behind one of his plants. While the term "fighting fish" may apply to the species as a whole, I'm pretty sure mine is more of a pacifist. He certainly would not have made it in the real world where there are other Bettas out there just waiting to tear him apart feathery, blue fin for feathery, blue fin.