Flash never apologized for how he chose to live his life – from his beginnings as the only hard-right supporter in the PetCo beta fish display to his later career as party observer and wedding witness, he always did things his way.
Flash was originally brought into the family as a workplace companion. But when the job suddenly evaporated, like a fishbowl of water on a hot day, Flash became a home fish, watching on as parties were thrown, apartments were packed up and moved, and, eventually, nuptials were tied. If that is indeed what one is supposed to do with a nuptial.
Although handicapped with a lack of vocal chords along with a water-based habitat, Flash liked to pass along his fearsomely bigoted views on the issues of the day, saving especial ire for the ladies of the PBS News Hour and the commies who present Wait, Wait… on NPR.
Despite his shocking level of hate and prejudice for anything that didn’t match his exacting fishy expectations, Flash was well loved by his family, who fed him on a semi-regular basis and cleaned him out whenever guilt, boredom, or an impending house party motivated them to do so.
With typical grit and tenacity, Flash, despite a long illness, held on to ensure he lived into 2017, secure in the knowledge that his pick for US president was safely on his way to be leader of the currently free world.
Goodnight, Flash, you magnificent, monstrous, fishy bastard.