I spill a bucket of small animals and all but the fish run away.
I think, I have to stop letting the world make such slippery handles.
The fish is dying of a gene named after you.
The manual says, "a germ-line mutation in the zinc-binding region of the metalloproteinase domain shows perinatal lethality."
I carry the fish looking for a bucket of water, which won't save it.
When you call me later, after the fish has died in my hands because I failed to find a
bucket in time for it to die in the water, you say you've never heard of this gene, which is
responsible for killing .8 out of 10 fish spilled from buckets and that bears your name.
I say I thought you should be aware.
(Then I think, that was mean, but I don't say this, and then everything is too quiet.)
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