This one time at band camp…

Scratch that. I played the violin. Pretty sure there was no such thing as Orchestra Camp (can you picture a bunch of kiddos with expensive wooden instruments sitting around a bonfire? yikes.).

It was church camp. I don’t remember what brand of church it was. It was the kind that required you to either speak in tongues or have an emotional meltdown before you were allowed to leave the nightly assembly of hell. I got pretty good at faking that as it was the only time I could sneak away to have a cigarette.

Anyway…it’s the end of a weeklong forced imprisonment and they had this big “celebration battle of the cabins” where you could score points for god and your teammates. Didn’t much care about the points for god but I like to win stuff and I wasn’t one to turn down a dare for extra points.

What was the extra points challenge? Swallow a live goldfish. So that’s what I did. How does one do that? First you have to catch one out of a pool or it could have been a bucket, everything beyond the sensation of that poor fishy going head first down my throat is lost in a haze. I can’t even tell you if our team won.

I don’t get butterflies in my tummy, there’s a damn pissed off mutant goldfish swimming around in there.

So yep, that happened 😭.

Da’Nela, an American Misfit, [she/her/hers/trying to be humanish, maybe]

The Fine Print: Real live goldfish were definitely harmed that day and I have no idea what they did with the remainders. Is it really my fault, no. But if you feel the need, and believe me, I hate that I did it πŸ˜‘ … hate mail can be sent to

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