Fuck you Sea Monkeys.
Look at you, in your tank, not growing.
Now look at the faces of my incredibly sad children anxiously peering into the water wondering what went wrong.
Did they not follow the directions to the letter?
Did they over/under feed you?
The water temperature, was that okay?
They didn’t love you enough maybe?
Well, perhaps you’ve forgotten that long ago slice of time that I spent trying to get your fake ass brine shrimp poser selves to live.
Remember the ad in the back of the comic books that we all sent in?
It promised smiling, crowned merpeople with pitchforks that could knock on the tank wall when they wanted to chat and hang out.
They never materialized.
Now the pain starts all over again.
Except this time, you’ve involved three naive boobs who sit around willing you to LIVE.
I hate you Sea Monkeys. You are the reason I cannot trust.