My Big Fat Zombie Goldfish by Mo O’Hara

 

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    Yesterday my big brother, Mark, turned into a real-life actual EVIL SCIENTIST . I mean, he always was mostly evil anyway—you know, knocking me down things or over things, locking me in things or out of things, squashing me under things or between things, that kind of mostly evil stuff. But lately he’s slid up the evil scale from “mostly evil” to “nearly totally evil.” It started with the way he talked.
    â€œHey! Tom!” he shouted. “Remote! Now!”
    Mark spoke in short words, like his brain had shrunk or something. He grabbed the remote and kicked my foot away. “Moron,” he mumbled.

    My best friend, Pradeep, who lives next door, says that “moron” is a big-brother word for little brothers. His brother, Sanj, who’s also mostly evil, calls him that too. Luckily Sanj is away at boarding school though, so he can only be mostly evil to Pradeep during school vacations.
    I told my mom about Mark going more evil, but Mom said it’s just that Mark is “home-moanal.” Which I think is why he’s moaning at home a lot. She said he can’t help acting evil (well, she didn’t say evil exactly, but she should have). She said it’s because he has lots of “home-moans” racing around his body.
    Just when I thought Mark couldn’t get worse, Granny and Grandad got him a chemistry set for his birthday. It came in a huge box with big official writing on the front that read:

    WARNING! Only for use by children over twelve years old. To be used solely under the supervision of adults.

    While I was reading the box, Mark thwacked my head from behind.
    â€œDon’t touch this—got it?” he said.
    I walked away rubbing my head. Mostly because it hurt, but also to get my head out of the way in case he decided to thwack me again.
    He took out a white scientist coat and looked at all the stuff inside the box. There were bottles and test tubes and cups and little stirring things, all made of glass. Real breakable glass! Mom looked at the chemistry set and leaned over to me.
    â€œMaybe you shouldn’t touch it, dear. It looks like an accident waiting to happen,” she said.

    Mark put on the coat and turned around. He folded up the collar, shoved his hands in the pockets and let a creepy smile spread over his face. And you know that squirmy, prickly feeling you get when you let a millipede crawl on your arm? I had that feeling, but in my stomach.
    Mark had turned into an EVIL SCIENTIST . But I didn’t know how evil he could be until he came home the next day with the goldfish.

 

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    Now, we’d had goldfish before. We won them at a church fair by throwing ping-pong balls into the little bowls they were swimming in. They didn’t live very long though. Mom said it was because the fish all had concussions from being hit on the head with the ping-pong balls.
    I had a concussion once when I was four, after I accidentally ran into the front door that Mark accidentally slammed shut just as he accidentally yelled, “Run, Tom, run.” That was back when he was just mostly evil.

    I remember the doctor shining a tiny flashlight into my eyes and then asking me if I could name all the Teletubbies. I told her that Teletubbies were lame and then threw up on her shoes. Not to be evil, just because I had to, you know. She said I had a concussion and needed to stay in the hospital overnight so they could keep an eye on me.
    So, the day after Mark got the chemistry set he came home after school with a goldfish in a little plastic bag and headed straight upstairs. Mom and I followed.
    â€œDid you go to a fair?” I asked.
    â€œMoron.” He shot me a look as he pulled his earphones out of his ears. “It’s from the pet shop. For school. Science week.”
    â€œWhy do you need…?” Mom started to ask, when Mark shoved a letter from his bag into her hand.
    She read aloud: “Class 7M