The goldfish kept dying in my fish tank and I couldn’t figure out why. “Have you gotten rid of anything that might hurt them,” Donny said. He’d been my go-to at the pet shop for decades. “Yeah, I took out all the things, minus the water,” I said. “Ah, there’s your problem,” he said. “What’s my problem?” I said. “You have a water problem,” he said. “Is it too acidic?” I said. “No, it’s the water itself. Your goldfish don’t like it.” “What do you mean they don’t like it? They have to like it. They’re fish,” I said. “You’d think that was the case,” he said. “Are you telling me my goldfish aren’t fish?” I said. “That’s what it sounds like,” I said. “But I bought them here from you. You sold me goldfish.,” I said. “Well, it sometimes happens we get the ones that aren’t actually fish, and it’s hard to tell the difference,” he said. “The difference between goldfish and what? I said. “Well, we’re still working on that,” he said. “You don’t know what they are?” I said. “Did I stutter?” he said. “Can I get a refund?” I said. “Well, they died, so no,” he said. “If you could bring them back alive, we could probably issue you a credit.” “Can I bring the dead ones back for partial credit? I’ve been saving their remains in a Ziploc bag?” I said. “You’re funny,” I said. “It helps to have a sense of humor in this world,” I said. “Even when it’s not funny,” he said. Especially then,” I said. “Can I interest you in another potential unknown species today,” he said.