Funeral

Grey clouds loomed over the proceedings as Steve's casket was wheeled out onto the mound. Rain drizzled down onto the green grass and the family sobbed and dripped goobers into their black sleeves.

"Oh shit," Tim said, looking down into the fishbowl at the tiny funeral.
"What's up?" Bobby asked, without looking up from his computer monitor whilst playing ski-free.
"One of them died."
"They do that."
"It was Steve," Tim said, one hand resting on the fish bowl.
"That means nothing to me."
"The one with the grey stringy hair? Angie loved him. He farted in his chair and then contentedly stayed sitting there. He said things like 'Those butt-poop yankees just gotta respect our freedom. Merica.' He was awesome."
Bobby laughed and sucked on some of the beer.
"Dude, we're the worst pet sitters," Tim said, distraught. "Angie is going to be heartbroken."
"It's just a human. Chill. We'll go to the pet store later and pick up a new one."
"Angie will know the difference."
"Nah they all look the same.
"And you just want to dump it in the fish bowl with all the other humans? Don't you think they'll know the difference?"
"Buddy, you're super boring when you're uptight. Do you want to bang Angie or something?"
"Why would you say that?" Tim said. "Angie is a super classy celestial life form. And, yes, duh. Why else would we be watching her humans when she's out of town?"
"Niiiiice," Bobby said. "When are you going to do it?"
"It?"
"Commence the intercourse. When she gets back?"
"She doesn't know I like her yet," Tim said. "I'm super nervous to talk to her about it."
"Dude, you're the most pussey of all of the dieties," Bobby said.
"Let's go to the pet store."

Two hours later they returned to their apartment. Tim had a plastic ziplock bag in his hand with tiny holes so the human, no bigger than the size of his palm, could breathe. Tim unzipped the baggee and dumped the human unceremoniously into the fish bowl. Tim and Bobby lowered themselves so they were eye level with the fishbowl. The tiny man plopped to the ground of the tank. Oblivious to the two giant powerful beings peering in at him, the human picked himself up, dusted off his suit, and began walking throughout the town. In what was only an hour of Tim and Bobby's time, the human had found a job at a tools and supplies factory (a factory that manufactures things needed to make more things) and entered into a warm, pleasant, and passionless relationship. Aimlessly, he went about his life and embarked on tasks as empty and meaningless as possible. He bought the CDs he was supposed to buy and watched the tv that was supposed to be hip. He met people and developed relationships but never got to know anyone including himself. He learned to surf and bought the right hoodies and cried himself to sleep at night.

Bobby flicked the side of the fish bowl with his thumb. "How loud do you think that is to them?"

A group of tiny humans looked up and scratched their heads, searching the skies for lightning that would never come.

"Don't be a jerk," Tim said.
"Seems like he's a good one," Bobby said. "He's fitting in nicely."
"Yeah," Tim said.
"Should we call him Steve number 2?"
"That is a nice touch."
"They certainly do mess up the bowl a lot with all their waste. How often do you need to clean it out?"
"Every 5,000 years their time, About every couple months our time," Tim said.
"Weird, it seems like they're crapping up the fish bowl a lot. I would have guessed you do it more often."
"They seem to like their own waste."
"So are you going to call Angie?"
"I guess. I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway."
"Right," Bobby said.

Bobby ordered a pizza while Tim sat by the fish bowl, watching tv, but not paying attention. They spent the evening quiet and distant from each other and only commenting on random things on tv every hour or so. Inside the fishbowl Steve's widow hadn't stopped crying yet.