While living in Oklahoma, we used to take day trips to the country or take extended weekend vacations to the Grand Canyon or some other interesting site. On this particular trip, we went on an extended weekend to an indian reservation. We had fun! We learned how to play the indian drums, learned some dances and made it rain, etc.. We loved learning new things about interesting people. We all had new "Indian" names. I was "boy of endless hunger", mel was "Doo Doo", my moms was "Wife of Buffalo" and my dad was "Pokeyhauntus". If you have ever had goldfish before, which most of us have, after about a week, they are floating belly up in the fish tank. You can clean the tank, make it sterile, give them the best food, but for some odd reason, they die really quickly. The trip to visit the indians was an extended weekend, so we thought that the fish would be fine. We come into the house like Savage indians, wearing head dress full of feathers and tomahawks drawn ready to scalp anyone who was in there. After a few days we decided to check on the goldfish. We are not sure why, but apparently the goldfish has committed suicide. Did he turn belly up like all the other fish we have had? NO! He jumped clean out of the fish bowl and we didn't know it. He had apparently been there for several days. He was dry and as stiff as a board. Not sure about a moral to this, but we did give him a proper burial, complete with the Tidy Bowl Man!