Dear Readers:  Apparently
I’ll be making my move for Little Ed as Little Antonio past away
recently. We are all saddened by his loss. If I had a truck I would
make sure to get the appropriate memorial decal. Does anyone know how
to hit on somebody discreatly at a funeral? The following is the
article in the LA Times:

Little Antonio Found Dead in Tank

To My Many Dear Readers:

I may have recently braved the horrors of the after effects of the Lithuanian diet, but I cannot bare the aesthetic horrors of man. These new ads underneath my Friendster posts are just too much for me to stomach. I have transferred the best of my posts (aren’t they all good though?) to a mirror site at Blogger. While I will still be posting here for the stragglers, I would appreciate it so much more if you would simply check http://mollyfishbowl.blogspot.com as part of your daily ritual.

Your Dearest Fish in the World,

Molly Barnacle

I’ll
have to tell you all about my thrilling escape from the clutches of
Sascha Bogdan at another date. I’m still working out my issues in
therapy with Herr Doctor Rashid Kaukab Finkelstein.
For now let us just say that the sewers of Lithuania are not as clean
as one would hope. Borsht really does a number on the digestive system!

Although
my search for my mother has left me empty handed, it has not left me
cold hearted. After I made it back to my Westside abode, I discovered this
in the L.A. Times. Normally, I prefer the NY Times or one of the
British papers, but the story of Little Antonio and Little Ed, made me
weak with sympathy so that I couldn’t help but read the whole story.

Apparently,
the LA Times is conducting a sick experiment where they’re trying to
see if two goldfish can live in water taken from the LA River. Those
poor fish! Even after surviving the horrors of Lithuanian plumbing,
well, I just don’t think I could stand the waters of the local river.
We goldfish are a hearty race, but there’s only so much we can take.

However,
they’re bravery has an alluring affect upon my soul and my heart. I
think I may be getting over my crush on Mayor Hahn and falling for both
Little Antonio and Little Ed! Seeing as we’re all famous fish of the
internet I bet we all have a lot in common. Any advice on how I should
approach them? Which one do I choose? Readers, I know you normally ask
me for advice, but this time I need your help.

Help! Sascha Bogdan has fishnapped me! I think he must have learned that I discovered where he was because I don’t view my profiles anonymously. I’ve been here for weeks. I think I’m in Lithuania. Can’t write much more. But please, please send he–

Not knowing where to go, I have been frantically searching the Internet in order to find my next lead. My search so far has turned up nothing and I am increasingly concerned for my own safety. How much longer can I stay here without any harm coming to me? Although my situation grows desperate, I thought I should share with you what I found on the web. Click here and you shall see the hobbies and interests of the terrible beast, Sascha Bogdan. It seems that just about everyone is on Fiendster these days. Should I be on Myspace instead?

Apparently, my reference to phrenology in a previous entry has troubled some readers. While I’m not wholly convinced by their evidence, according to them phrenology has been a discredited science for nearly a century. Who knew?

Although I received countless e-mails, by far my favorite correspondence came again from Mary Evertt of the Miami Correctional Facility, located in Peru, Indiana.

Dear Molly,

Like I said last time, nights in lockdown are pretty long and get lonesome. Since you don’t ever respond to my last letter (although thanks for posting it), I’ve got no reason to stay here. I’ve been seeing a prison lawyer to try to find a way out of the joint. I’ve been saying for years that it was the cops who put that knife in my husband’s back, but she said ain’t nobody ever going to believe that I guess. Anyway, we were looking at phrenology for awhile on account that I got a pretty, good-shaped head, but we looked it up and apparently that won’t fly for an appeal because it ain’t a real science no more. I never did do so well in school.

Anyway, you are right though. That b*****d does look pretty filthy. I know some people on the outside and I’m sure they could give him a, ahm, "good talkin’ too" . . .

Thanks Marry! I appreciate your offer to talk to your friends and help me find him, but at this point in my quest, I feel like I have to do it on my own. As of now the trail has gone, but I’m scrambling to make arrangements to get away from here. While I haven’t heard anything new, I still feel like my life is in danger.

I’m afraid I have more bad news.

Last night I was stirred from my sleep by the sounds of violence. The eel that had showed me Sascha Bogdan’s vile picture was murdered last night. Assassinado!

"You should have never have talked, Esmeralda," a human voice came from inside the Medical Center.

"They turned on me! They turned on me!" she screamed. "Why do you think I’m even here to begin with? Those no good piranhas! They put me here! They put me here!" At the end of this repetition her voice went out and broke down into a hysterical whimper.

"The boss says that there are no excuses."

The man approached the tank in what looked like a slightly stilted goose step.

"If you take one step closer, I swear I’ll shoot you full of juice."

The man held out his hands; he was wearing rubber gloves. Esmeralda shrieked in terror. However, despite her cry she was not paralyzed in fear. She quickly turned around and after gaining momentum charged the  glass, pressing herself hard against the wall of her tank in an attempt to push it off the ledge, hoping that the sound of shattering glass would alert the night watchman.  But alas to no avail! The man reached into the tank and pulled out the eel, tossing her to the floor. She flopped and struggled for air in an ungodly fashion for several minutes.

The man walked over to me. I hid behind the castle in my tank. The man stood there for several minutes, breathing loudly but not saying a word. After my heart stopped beating so frantically, he bent over and, nearly putting his head in the water, said in a very calm voice, "Listen, little Barnacle. This is what happens when you become  a Carderas. You sure you want to make the change?" The then walked out of the Medical Center undetected.

My life is danger! I must leave here soon if I am to escape this place with my soul and my body joined at the fin.

Unfortunately, something awful has happened to me. No, nobody has tried to eat me again, but regrettably my corporate sponsors have decided to take away my funding. Apparently, they felt I was not subtle enough for their guerrilla marketing campaign.

The real tragedy of this is not the loss of funds - I’ve always considered myself more an aristocrat of the mind anyway - but that my private room must be shared in order to spare my beleaguered pocket book any more worry. They have been rotating patients in and out of here like it was some sort of cheap floozy hotel. The indignity of it all!

However, all of this calamity has not been for nothing. I have gotten closer to finding out more about Sascha Bogdan, the mysterious stranger who has some connection to my mother. Last night, my roommate was that old gnarled toothed eel from South America who killed that valiant salmon.

Why, when I think of the cruelty that eel was responsible for it makes it impossible for me to forgive her in spite of her most recent kindness. When they brought her into the hospital room, she was a mess. Not only was she her usual unattractive self, but her eye was bruised and damaged. Those scales she had remaining were flaky and dull. After they put her in her tank, she plopped down to the bottom gravel, looked at me, and then grimaced. My first reaction was to hide in the corner of my tank, but after seeing Oz, I knew that I needed to stand my ground.

This ultimately was the best thing I could have done for in her despondency she could not keep up her vida loca facade up for very long. She sighed, looked me over once, and she asked me in a faint voice, "You wanna know what Sascha Bogdan looks like?"

"Y-y-yes," I answered nervously.

Sticking her tail out of the water she zapped the computer across the room two times - once to turn it on, the second to activate the Aquarium’s personnel files. She shot out an electrical current a few more times, until she pulled up Bogdan’s file. She then turned away from me and hid in the corner, muttering to herself.

From where I was, I could not see any of the file’s relevant details save for his photo. He was an ugly lout; that much I could tell. He was, at his name suggested, an Eastern European type. I could not tell his exact origin, but I knew he was of some mongrel race. He was probably a descendant of a gypsy, if not one himself. I have provided the photo here so you can gaze upon the ungainly creature. Look at his protruding hawkish nose. Consider his over sized ears, no doubt to hear the falling of lost silver. Behold his unkempt face, gone unshaven for days as he prowled the night streets for unfortunates to prey upon. Finally, observe his deviant smile, betraying his malevolent intentions towards my saintly mother, Florentina Carderas. Indeed, upon reflection I referenced my book on physiognomy and after consulting the experts, I knew right away that he had the face of a criminal.

Hello, my adoring public!

I am happy to inform you that the doctors have told me that I am making a full recovery. They are taking good care of me here at the Aquarium Medical Center and the doctors are very accommodating to the needs of a celebrity like myself. Because of my fame and the danger that I am in, the doctors have put me in my own private bowl.

It is here that I have felt my first sense of true freedom and luxury since beginning this tour back in July. My tank is gorgeously furnished with HBH Enterprises’ lovely Aqua Gems. Sparkling colors across the rainbow, the decorating possibilities are only limited by the medical staff’s imagination. Swimming down these gems is the fish equivalent of a stroll down the red carpet at a fancy movie premiere. At 90ct for less than 4 dollars these gems are a steal and will make a fine addition to your aquarium or fishbowl. However, when my fins get tired of my fans and all that glitters, I simply adore the privacy that HBH Enterprises Lava Katima Habitat 2 provides. Katima is a metamorphic African rock that is squeezed and folded by pressure and heat, making the rock change in shape, color, and texture. The small cave like structure of the Lava Katima Habitat 2 is the perfect place to recuperate and take a break when I need to get away from the world. Regularly priced at 29 dollars, the HBH Lava Katima Habitat 2 is a real bargain at only 10 dollars. However, everyone knows that even famous fishes, regardless of their medical condition, need to stay in shape. That is why the hospital has so graciously supplied me with the HBH Rainbow Rock. About 120 million years ago in the deserts of Utah, volcanic lava flows dominated the landscape. Layer upon layer of lava cooled, was shaped by the wind, and finally tinted by iron oxide laden waters that flowed from the surrounding mountains. Over time, beautiful rainbow patterned stones were created. HBH has painstakingly replicated these rocks, complete with arches that are perfect for swimming in and out of in timed trials. Regularly retailing at 46 dollars, you can more than afford to get your fish in shape now for a limited time, for only 15 dollars. That’s a saving of 66 percent! All of this would be naught if the hospital did not use the HBH Aqua Pure High Density Carbon. This product is made of premium grade bituminous coal, which quickly clarifies aquarium water by removing discoloration, odors, and organic waste. At 6 dollars you cannot afford not to have it.

Unfortunately, this luxury hospital care is expensive, and since I need the funds I received from Dr. Liu to continue my whirlwind world tour, I’ve had to seek outside help. Originally, I considered doing a telethon - something along the lines of Jerry’s Kids - but my agent advised me against holding a telethon for myself. Something about it being illegal in Texas and Kentucky. So instead, I’ve secured corporate sponsorship in order to pay for my medical bills. For legal reasons I’m not at liberty to disclose who my sponsor is (they wanted to do a guerrilla market campaign), but lets just say their generosity has allowed me the privacy and time to fully appreciate all the flavor and fun in HBH Brand Goldfish Nuggets.

My time at the New England Aquarium has been one of great mystery and intrigue, I kid you not. It really is extremely mortifying and I can barely even write about it now without terrifying myself to death. I fear for my life.

I arrived wearing my makeup from the Oprah show. The tourists, naturally enamored by my beauty, clamored to see just who was being introduced to the Fresh Water Exhibit.

"Hello, it is I, Molly Carderas Barnacle, who has come to wow you with her good looks and wit," I told them. I’m not certain that they heard me over their "Oohs" and "Aws." Once I was placed in the water, every member of the crowd stood there, starring at the beauty of my fins, unable to speak or respond to me as their mouths lay gaping in amazement.

Once the audience calmed down, I felt a chill run up my spine. Oh no, it was not the cool waters that had this effect on me, but the other fish in the tank. Many of them un-famous no doubt, had turned fin and swam away from me. From their hiding spaces I could feel them glaring at me with their emotionless disk-shaped eyes.

A gnarled toothed eel from South America recognized me from my makeup and slinking her way over to me said, "You the Carderas kid we’ve been hearing about?"

"Do you know my mother?" I asked. My heart was beating in a panic.

"You better not be here by the time the tourists leave."

"Cadela," I called out to her, but I did not take her threat seriously. Certainly not seriously enough.

That night when the tourists and scientists had left for the evening, a gang of six foul mouthed piranhas swarmed around me in a vicious circle. My body was paralyzed with fear.

"You should not have come here, little Carderas," said one of them.

"It will be the death of you," said another.

They swarmed on me in a way that is too terrible to even describe. They  nipped at my fins. They swiped at my scales. It’s too awful to say any more.

In my crisis, I heard the voice of a mighty salmon cry out, "Stop, this is not even what your leader, Sascha Bogdan would want."

He charged the smaller piranhas and got them away from myself. He fought valiantly, however there were too many of them and they overtook him. The eel that had threatened me earlier electrocuted him, stunning him senseless as the piranhas fiendishly began their feast upon his body.

The only reason why I was saved was because the night watchman noticed the morose carcass of the salmon floating up top. The watchman saw my plight and called the veterinarian. Thanks to him, I am now safe in the Aquarium Medical Center, recovering from my wounds. I am well protected now, segregated from those beasts and under constant surveillance.

I am now driven not only to find my mother, but to find out who Sascha Bogdan is and why he and his associates seek to impede my progress. What is his connection to my mother? Does he know where she is? I must know and I must find this out quickly before any other innocents are harmed.