Fish Murderer

A few weeks ago Little One arrived home on Sunday afternoon with a fish bowl and two little goldfish she had named Michelle and Megan. I was not keen on this new development, but had agreed to allow the new additions to the family after much begging and pleading and promises that she would look after them because she just loved them so much.
Big mistake!
Little One could not restrain herself and repeatedly lifted her fishies out of the water to give them loves and then dumping them back.
A few days later I arrived home to a frantic child running down the driveway yelling "Mom, you know what! My fishie Michelle - the little orange one, not the one with brown spots on called Megan, the just orange one! She dieded!"
So how did she die?
"She did get bited by a vicious mosquito," was the breathless response from Little One, who herself was sporting some big red lumps courtesy of a mosquito attack - no doubt the inspiration for her dramatic account of the death.
We went inside and lifted dear departed Michelle out of the bowl. Little One looked tearfully on as I prepared to drop her into the loo, whispering "But she will be scared down there".
"No. Michelle is sleeping dead and she will be fine. We will send her to be with other dead fishies," I told her as she happily flushed.
Little Megan - the orange fishie with brown spots - was looking a little listless and I was worried. But she regained her strength and was soon swimming around strongly, enjoying the end of the honeymoon period as her young owner stopped picking her up to give her loves.
But, I'm sad to say, her little life has also now ended.
Recently Little One tried to bar me from her bedroom, telling me to keep out. I realised something was wrong and waited until she was in the bath before letting her know I was going to check on sweet Megan, and ignored her protests.
And there she was: belly up in the bowl bobbing next to plastic Bruce the Shark and a few other Finding Nemo characters that had been placed in the bowl.
I returned to the bathroom.
JJ: "Do you know what happened to Michelle?"
Glum Little One: "She dieded."
JJ: "Yes, but how did she die?"
GLO: "A vicious mosquito did bited her."
JJ: "No, I don't think so. Did you do something to her? Did you hurt her by mistake?"
GLO: "No, mom. Don't be cross wiff me."
JJ: "I'm not cross with you. I just want you to tell me the truth. What happened to the fishie?"
GLO: "Okay. I will tell you the truth. But don't be cross, okay."
JJ: "No, it's fine. Just tell the truth."
GLO, with hands out bobbing dramatically, palms up and fingers spread: "The truth is that Bruce the shark did keel her. He bited her badly."
And that was that. All the information I could get out of her.
Subsequent investigations revealed that she may have rubbed some of her sunblock on the fish.
We flushed in silence.
May dear Megan rest in peace as she heads off to join her sister Michelle in the big fish pond in the sky.