Miss Chief and the Case of the Missing Guppy

My niece, Jana, bought three guppies for her three kids and set them up in a little fishbowl.

One day, they got a floater. A fish passed away.

Jana did what every good mother does: held a solemn toilet-side funeral and flushed the dearly departed.

Down to two.

A few days later, Jana walked by the bowl… and there was only one fish.

No floater.

No hiding.

Just gone.

She looked down at three-year-old Miss Chief — the only witness on the scene — and asked,

“Sweetie, what happened to the fish? There’s only one.”

Miss Chief looked up with pure innocence and said,  

“It’s in my belly.”

Jana blinked. Surely she misheard.

“…What did you say?”

Miss Chief repeated, slowly, helpfully:

“It’s. In. My. Belly.”

Horrified, Jana asked, “How did you catch it?”

Miss Chief demonstrated: dipped her hand in the bowl, scooped up an imaginary fish, shoved it straight into her mouth.

Gobble gobble gobble.

“In my belly.”

This was not some frat boy that swallowed a goldfish on a dare.

This was a toddler who looked at the family pet and thought,

“Lunch.”

Still trying to process that her child had just eaten a household member, Jana asked,

“Okay… but what did it do in your mouth?”

And Miss Chief—this kid deserved an Oscar—threw herself into a full interpretive performance.

Flopped on the floor.

Arms waving.

Head wobbling like a bobblehead in an earthquake.

A dramatic reenactment of the fish’s final moments.

Half disgusted, half impressed, Jana asked,

“What did it taste like?”

Without hesitation, Miss Chief answered:

“Sushi.”

This child was either destined to be a food critic or a… Bond villain.

Note to Readers:

While Miss Chief highly recommended the house sushi, please consult a veterinarian before allowing your toddlers to perform their own aquatic hit-jobs. This story is for entertainment purposes only; please keep your pets out of the “belly” zone.