The Haunted Fish Tank

Written by Zelda

 

            “Russel Hobbs!!!” A bellow echoed through the halls of Kong Studios. “Bloody ‘ell, wot happened to the fridge?!” Murdoc Niccals stood before the open door of the refrigerator, angry and aghast at the same time. It was empty, completely cleaned out of everything! “How in the name of Satan could he ‘ave eaten everything?” Murdoc growled to himself. “Everything! Even the box of baking soda!” Swinging the door shut angrily, he shivered a bit from the cold breeze, and tried to think. It would be pointless to yell at Russ anymore, he and Noodle had left the Studios hours ago. “Food shopping, I hope…” he snarled under his breath. So what was a hungry bassist supposed to do? Knowing the pair, they wouldn’t be back for a while, and he was hungry. The only other one around was 2-D, probably locked in his room with a pair of headphones vacuum-sealed over his ears. No way did he want to interact with that tosser, to say nothing of begging him for food. For a moment, Murdoc had the idea to take one of the cars and go out for a bite. But that meant he had to endure the long process of washing and dressing, making himself, as Russel would say: ‘presentable’. “To ‘ell with that.” Murdoc frowned.

 

                So he stalked out of the kitchen, getting more fed-up by the footstep, figuring that he could find something to eat somewhere in this place. On a whim, he decided to take the lift up and peek in Noodle’s room. She might have some of those little puffy shrimp-flavored rice crackers stashed away, and Murdoc had actually developed a taste for them, though he’d never admit it to her. He swung open her door, batted aside a few paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and stepped in. Even when void of the girl herself, Noodle’s room seemed to be alive. “Like walkin’ into a bloody Pokemon episode.” Murdoc rolled his eyes. His peripheral vision caught a sudden swirl of white and red, and Murdoc glanced to his left to see some large koi wisping around in a fish tank on one of her shelves. When had she put that in? Four or five koi paddled around languidly in the large tank, but one in particular caught his eye. It was the biggest one, white with red blotches on its back. Hunger and desperation started literally cooking ideas in the bassist’s head. “… Big enough to eat…” he mumbled, and grew a toothy grin. Trying to look casual, he sauntered over to the tank and peered over the top. The fish rose to the water’s surface, opening their ring shaped mouths and blub-blubbing as if they were expecting food. Murdoc glanced to a canister of koi pellets nearby, and then looked back, shaking his head. “’Fraid it’s the other way ‘round, today.” he smirked. Rolling up his sleeves to the shoulders, Murdoc plunged his arms into the tank, hauling out the largest koi by hooking his fingers under its gills. Struggling with the frantic and flopping creature, he made haste back for the lift, trying to keep the creature under control all the way back to the kitchen. Nonchalantly, he tossed the fish onto the counter, and decided to silence it by bashing it over the head with a conveniently located rolling pin. “Thank ya, Jamie Oliver.” he sneered. He heated up a frying pan, took a few quick slashes of a knife to the koi, and within minutes the smell of frying fish was taunting him. Murdoc was far from a good cook, and by the time he was done, all that was left was a flaky, burnt, and bony mess. All the same, he shoveled it out onto a plate, sat down, and dug in greedily. “Wotever doesn’t kill me, eh?” he thought to himself. Somehow, Murdoc managed to get through all of the fish, crunching down on the bones, and even a few scales that had escaped the koi’s cleaning. “Not ‘alf bad.” he smiled at himself, patting his stomach and picking his teeth with a leftover pin bone. “Noodle girl, ya know ‘ow to come through in a pinch.” The bassist ended his hasty meal by eliminating any incriminating evidence, putting the waste down the disposal and cleaning any of the utensils he’d used. With his hunger satiated, his grumpy mood had actually lifted slightly, and he strode back downstairs to his Winne to sleep off the meal, wearing a wicked grin all the way.

 

                “What’s all the noise, girl?” Russel muttered, sticking his head into her doorframe. “Come back downstairs, we gotta put this grub away. Damn good thing we cleaned out the fridge earlier…” he trailed off, surprised, as he found Noodle lying on her bed in tears. “Whoa, what happened?” he asked, sitting next to her. “Is dis about that Yu-Gi-Oh card ya lost?”

                Noodle leaned up and latched herself around one of Russel’s arms, pointing at her fish tank and sniffling. “Kyoto gone!” she whined.

                “Kyoto?” Russel raised an eyebrow, and then looked at the tank. “Oh, you mean he died… Sorry ‘bout that girl, that’s gotta happen to everything ya know—“

                “No die!” Noodle hopped off of her bed, turning angry. She struck a karate pose and rattled a further explanation out in Japanese, which Russel caught very little of.

                “Slow down, sista!” he put up his hands. “What do you mean? If your fish ain’t dead, then someone took it?”

                “Hai!” she nodded emphatically. “Fish-nap!”

                Russel put a hand to his forehead and sighed. “Noodle, why would anyone wanna steal one of your fish? Why don’t we just go to the pet store tomorrow and—“

                “No!!!” she stamped her foot, glowering. “Russel-san help find Kyoto!”

                “Sheesh.” he shook his head. “This is gonna be a long day.”

 

                Damn Satan-scaled fish. Murdoc hadn’t been able to sleep well at all, thanks to his ill-gotten snack. He now stumbled from the ‘loo, muttering curses to koi everywhere under his breath, when he bumped into something so hard that he sent it toppling over.

                “Oi Murdoc!” 2-D protested, propping himself up on an elbow and rubbing his head. “What was ‘at for?”

                “For being in my way.” Murdoc snapped back. “I mistook your skinny arse for a floor lamp, I did.”

                2-D stood and dusted himself off. “Didja hear ‘bout poor Noodle?”

                Murdoc couldn’t help but freeze slightly. “Naw, what’s that wasabi bitch squealin’ on about now?” he frowned, trying to keep his demeanor straight.

                “Seems she lost one of ‘er fish.” 2-D explained. “Which seems hard, I ‘fink, ‘cause it ain’t like they got anywhere else go to…”

                “Lost it?” Murdoc let out a chuckle. “Well I’ll be. So ‘at’s her big crisis? Take ‘er out to the store and get her a new ‘un. Better yet, a bunch a plastic ones.”

                “Aww, ‘ave a heart Muds.” 2-D folded his thin arms. “’Sides, she keeps insistin’ someone took it from ‘er—“ He was interrupted by Russel’s voice down the hall, calling the pair into the kitchen for dinner. Inwardly, Murdoc was celebrating the chance to eat real food again. Russel rarely made a meal big enough for all of them. Outwardly, he shrugged, pushing 2-D back to the floor before ambling on towards his supper.

 

                “No eat!” she turned her nose up, pushing her plate back.

                Russel rolled his eyes. “Come on Noodle, there’s nothin’ I can do ‘bout your fish right now. Just eat dinner, ‘kay?”

                “Leave her ‘lone Russ.” Murdoc was half pouting as he wolfed his own plate down. “’Least she wasn’t stuck in ‘ere with no food today. Give me ‘er plate, while you’re at it.”

                Russel narrowed his eyes at his bandleader, and continued to eat himself, ignoring his request. “So we gonna have practice tonight?”

                “Dun see why not.” Murdoc shrugged. “Unless the dullard ain’t up to it again…”

                “I had a sore throat last time—“ 2-D peeked up from his food.

                “Excuses, excuses.” he glared back. “Yer singin’ tonight, or you’ll have my bass for a throat lozenge.” Murdoc didn’t wait for a response before he shoveled another forkful of food down. Finally taking the time to chew, the bassist frowned slightly as he noticed it had a weird taste… “’Ey Russ, what is this stuff?”

                “A pork chop Muds, what’s it look like?” the drummer replied, not looking up from the table.

                Murdoc chewed thoughtfully for a moment, thinking hard. This didn’t taste like any pork chop he’d ever had before. It tasted kinda… fishy…. Disgusted by the possibility that he’d gotten a bad piece of meat, he moved on to his share of rice. But that tasted kind of fishy too! Just like that awful, blackened mess he’d eaten earlier. “Bleh, this stuff’s all disgustin’.” he snorted, pushing his half-eaten meal away.

                “You’re welcome.” Russel huffed.

                Murdoc stood with a grumble, and started out of the kitchen. “I’ll be nappin’ before practice, none of ya wake me if you wanna see what’s for breakfast.”

 

                Bleh, he needed that taste outta his mouth. Murdoc lazily draped himself onto his bed in his Winne, reaching for a bottle of his favorite mouthwash. “Ahh, nothin’ beats a Vodka chaser or three.” he nodded, taking a swig. But even this had a lingering aftertaste of fish. He shook his head and gave up. Maybe if he got desperate, he’d steal some toothpaste and actually brush his teeth for once. But for now, he was tired, and that was all he was willing to deal with. Eating big meals usually made him sleepy, and the bassist was content to pull a dirty black sheet over his head, and cuddle up in the dark confines of his Winnebago.

 

                Murdoc growled and squinted his eyes as the sound reached an irritating volume. Who in Satan’s name would be dumb enough to stumble down here and wake him up? He sat up, pulling the sheet off of his head, and wrenched his door open, ready to start a good rant at the noise polluter. However, he was a little surprised to find that nobody was there. The entire carpark was empty, save for the cars of course, and the noise. Where was it coming from? It was strange, kind of gurgly and bubbly, like water being sucked slowly into a small hole. Murdoc stepped out onto the concrete floor and turned around, listening for a direction the noise could be coming from. He frowned as he couldn’t find one. His anger was fading away to curiosity, but sleep was still tugging him back inside the Winne. “Eh, ta hell with it.”  he muttered, and stomped back up the steps into the van, closing the door behind him. The bassist squirmed back under the sheets, this time adding a pillow over his head to help block out the sound. Still, it seemed as if the noise wasn’t dulled at all, as if it were from right inside his head, like a ringing ear. Murdoc sat up again and shook his head rather violently. The noise didn’t fade, and now he had an accompanying headache. “What, am I becoming the dullard now?” he asked himself aloud. “Now there’s a nightmare.” Frustrated, he stood up again, and decided to wander up to the ‘loo. Maybe he literally needed to get this out of his system. But as he approached the toilets, the noise only got louder, so persistent that it actually started to hurt, thudding inside his head like a migraine. Murdoc stumbled into a stall and lifted up a toilet seat, nearly yelling out loud in surprise when he was met with the severed head of Noodle’s koi floating in the bowl, it’s mouth still moving, opening and closing. It was making that horrible noise! It stared back at Murdoc with dull, unblinking eyes, blub-blubbing as if it expected a meal.

 

                With a gasp, he rocketed upright in bed, shaking off a mangled collection of sheets and pillows. Murdoc’s eyes darted about for a few moments before he realized that he was in his Winnebago, and that the noise was gone. “Wot tha—“ he murmured. A sweat had actually broken out on his forehead, and Murdoc wiped it away with a little relief as he realized it was just a nightmare. “Sweet Satan, haven’t had me one ‘a those in a while…” He was violently startled again as there was a loud banging on his door, shattering the relative silence. “Gah, whoisit!?!” he snapped.

                “S’me Muds.” 2-D called from outside. “Time for practice, I ‘fink.”  

                “You’re thinkin’ eh?” Murdoc growled. “There’s a rare moment. Alright dullard, I’ll be right there…” Murdoc stood and heaped his blankets back on the bed. He gave himself a thorough shake to stretch, and took another swig of vodka before he exited the vehicle. But as he followed 2-D upstairs, he couldn’t help but thinking that the drink tasted strangely of fish.

 

                Brushing his teeth sounded like a very good option right now. The group was in the middle of Faust, which was a song that allowed Murdoc’s mind to drift as he plunked out the same series of notes, again and again, on his favorite black bass. Even if his mind were into the music, it wouldn’t have helped to distract him from the horrible taste in his mouth. That fishy feeling hadn’t gone away with the vodka at all. In fact, the drink might even have made it worse! Murdoc swore that he could still taste the burned scales, still feel where a few pinbones had poked his gums. The bassist turned his head aside, and watched distantly as 2-D and Noodle hovered close together to synch their vocals up right. He continued to watch them, barely noticing as the music faded around him. It wasn’t until something flew past his nose that he snapped back into reality.

                “You wanna cut it out Muds?” Russel quirked an eyebrow at him. “I know the bassline’s boring, y’all think I’m havin’ any fun pokin’ at this drum machine?”

                Murdoc turned to look at the wall, where one of Russel’s drumsticks had hit and fallen to the floor. His relative calm suddenly vanished as anger took him over. Russel threw something at him! He could have taken his eye out!  The bassist spun around and was about to open his mouth in a shout, when he felt something hit him right above the eyes, in the temple, disintegrating his vision into stars. For a second, he thought he’d been shot with an arrow, and toppled backwards. But something clattered down against his bass as he fell, and he recognized the sound as the other one of Russel’s sticks. Little more crossed the bassist’s mind as he hit the floor hard, and blacked out.

 

                “’Ey man, you alright?”

He heard Russel’s voice long before he managed to open his eyes. “I’m gonna kill ya Russ….” he hissed, reaching up to feel his head. There was no pain in his temple like there was before. Actually, he felt very relaxed, as if cool air were all around him, and he was moving very slowly.

                “Take it easy man…” 2-D leaned down a bit to look at him. “I gots some pills if you want, for yer head.”

                “My head feels fine.” Murdoc sat up. “It’s yours I think, that needs checkin’.” Pushing his singer out of the way, Murdoc stood up. It felt strange, as if he were pushing up against something as he stood, as if his body felt lighter than normal. Maybe he really had hurt his head. As his bandmates stood up, Murdoc looked around at the practice room, and nearly had stomach shoot into his throat. The entire room was completely underwater! Keyboards and guitars floated around, sheet music wisped about like clusters of seaweed. Murdoc’s hands shot around his throat as he gagged violently, suddenly realizing that he couldn’t breathe!

                Noodle looked up at him strangely, frowning. “Murdoc-san no well?” she asked.

                A desperate bassist gagged back, eyes wide as he stared at her. How was she just standing there on the ground? How was she talking? Something swirled in front of his nose, just like Russel’s drumstick had only moments ago. But this was fat, and white and red. Murdoc was shocked to see that it was actually a fish! Just like Noodle’s koi! And there it was, drifting right before his face as he floated and choked, blub-blubbing at him like it was expecting food. The noise rang through his head as if someone were banging a plastic tub right up against his ear. Murdoc swirled around, flailing his arms in a desperate attempt to swim away, to find air. But as he left the company of his confused bandmates, he only saw more koi wisping around him, the noise that their mouths made was absolutely deafening. How incredibly screwed up was this?! Murdoc was so horribly confused, and the worst thing was that he was running out of air. He had to breathe, a bugger could only keep this up for so long! Murdoc closed his eyes, merely waiting for his lungs to burst on their own.

 

And when they did, and when the water around him forced its way down his throat, all he could taste was horribly burned fish.

 

He bolted upright with a hacking cough, eyes flying open and nearly white with fear.

“Whoa!” A truly surprised Russel had to push himself backwards, to save himself from being smacked in the face. “Easy Muds!”

Noodle gave a frightened squeal and retreated behind 2-D’s stick legs. The singer looked like he wanted to run and hide himself, as he gazed down at the sitting bassist.

“Wha--- what in the name of Satan?!—“ Murdoc gasped, panting for air. He looked around him, completely bewildered, to find that the room was normal, and everyone was staring at him like he had three heads! There was no water, no fish, but that taste was still in his mouth, and a pounding still in his head.

“Jeez Muds.” Russel grumbled. “I said I was sorry, didn’t mean to hit ya like that.”

“B-b-but what happened?” Murdoc stuttered. “Where did it go? The fish?!”

“Wot are you talkin’ about Murdoc?” 2-D squinted one eye.

“Fish!” Noodle zipped out from behind the singer, and now was eye-to-eye with the confused bassist, a finger jabbed harshly at him. She let out a tormenting stream of Japanese, broken here and there by a word of English. “What---you---know?!”

“Settle girl!” Russel put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s this all about?”

“Murdoc-san have Kyoto!!” she insisted.

“Kyoto?” Murdoc looked bewildered.

“Err, that’s the name of the fish that died.” Russel rolled his eyes. “Let it go Noodle, ‘kay?”

“He know!” Noodle snarled at the bassist.

“You didn’t take Noodle’s fish, did ya Muds?” 2-D asked in a tone meant to console the aggravated Noodle at his feet.

“’Course not!” he snapped. “Wot in bloody ‘ell would I want with an ugly fish?” The bassist stood and defiantly brushed his shirt off. He realized that the whole thing must have been an ugly dream, something that happened while he’d been knocked out. “That’s it, I need some ice for me ‘ead. Crazy drummer tryin’ ta off me…” he growled, stalking for the door. But as he walked, the noise cranked up in his head again, the imagery of those open mouths right before his eyes. It was almost paralyzing, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Alright--- alright stop it! Stop it!”

“Stop… what, Muds?” 2-D was dumbfounded. He also had to leap aside a few seconds later, to avoid being hit by a flying mixing panel.

“That cursed noise!” Murdoc yelled. “That noise and that taste! Stop it! I dunno what you did ta me but alright! I ATE Noodle’s stupid fish! That’s what you get for eatin’ all the grub around here!!!”

Noodle gasped and stood stock still.

2-D was still utterly confused.

Russel frowned deeply, but his face went suddenly blank as his head dipped to his chest, milky white eyes becoming distant. From around the studio, laughter was suddenly heard.

Murdoc spun to see a blue-faced, red-lipped grin right in front of him.

“Long time no see, brotha.” Del sneered.

“You!!!” Murdoc jumped a safe distance back, and jabbed his finger angrily at the ghost. “Y-you did this!”

Del smirked and leaned roughly against a wall with his shoulder. “Hells no man. Eatin’ Noodle’s pet fish ‘cause your tummy was rumblin’? That was all you.” he glanced down to Noodle, who was staring furiously at her bassist. “Chill out, lil’ sis. Kyoto din’ have it so bad. You took good care ‘a that thing.” Seeing the little guitarist calm a bit, he returned his ghastly stare to Murdoc. “You, on da otha hand, need a real beatin’ down man.”

“Feh, bring it on, mister transparency.” Murdoc spat.

“Think I already did, man.” Del grinned from ear to ear. “Nearly had you wailin’ for yo momma too. Now, do ya ever wanna taste vodka again man? ‘Cause I can make it happen.”

Murdoc grit his teeth and hissed. “What do ya want?”

“An apology.” Del nodded. Murdoc was about to open his mouth, when the ghost raised a finger. “Not ta me, Einstein. Ta her.” He gestured to Noodle.

Murdoc looked the girl in the eyes, and saw her still a little angry, but now mostly sad, and confused.

“Murdoc-sama… eat… Kyoto?” she asked in disbelief.

Murdoc rolled his eyes. “Yes yes, I ate yer bloody fish. And it was awful too, I hope yer happy ta know!” But he glanced back, to see that she had only saddened. “Christ’ssake..” he hissed. “Alright, I shouldn’t have eaten yer fish, kay?” he asked, making it clear that his words were being forced. “Sorry, awright? Yer never gonna hear that from me again, I ain’t repeatin’ it for no one!” In response, Noodle glanced sideways at the ground, and Murdoc let out an exasperated sigh. “Alright! I’ll get ya a new fish tomorrow, right?… You… can even come with me.”

At this, the guitarist’s face lit up, and she smiled back at him. “Deal!” she beamed. “Good thing too. Noodle no like Kyoto much anyway, he too fat!”

Murdoc slapped his forehead, covering his eyes, while 2-D laughed outright.

Smiling victoriously, Del vanished back into Russel’s head, and the drummer was his normal self again. “Heh… amazin’ man.” he glanced up as if it was into his skull. “Gotta hand it to ya brotha.”

“Oh enough already.” Murdoc snapped gloomily. “Practice is over, right? I’m goin’ to the kitchen and getting meself some real food.”

As he tramped out, 2-D couldn’t help but call after him. “If you want, there’s fishsticks in the freezer!”

 

The End