It was an incredible amount of pressure. I was home alone for the night. My wife and child were in Orlando with friends. I was ready to kick back on the sofa and wait for my mother to call and suggest PBS shows I should watch: “Brian, the 12-toed Australian sea sloth is on at 9. You should really watch it!”
The phone did ring. It wasn’t my mother, though. It was my wife and child. They had something important they needed me to do. My evening was shattered. No relaxation. I was on … Sea-Monkey duty!
Any idea what Sea-Monkeys are? They are fantastical creatures — a throwback from my wife’s childhood. Maybe yours. I hear about them all the time. They were big in her house, these brine shrimp. Freeze-dried in a little packet, you pour them into water and they come to life. Swim around. Give you endless joy. Sea-Monkeys!
My daughter won them at her aunt’s. It was a Fourth of July party.
“Great!” I thought. “One more critter to care for.”
Already there is the dog, three chickens and a giant spider on the porch who keeps casting webs directly in front of the door. He snags me every morning I go for the paper. I can hear him scream, “Mother load, boys! Get the frying pan.”
The Sea-Monkey packaging was a wonder of marketing: Ocean-Zoo! it said. The World’s Only Instant Pets! A True Miracle of Nature! Instant Life! Just Add Water!
There were lots of exclamation points! I kind of liked that! More things should have exclamation points! “Honey, I have to go to the bathroom!”
It came with a little aquarium container. The water needed to be purified. My wife and child had already done that. They worked it all out. They would pour the Sea-Monkey eggs in right before they left for Orlando. It was timed out perfectly. Exactly according to the instructions. In 24 hours there would be Sea-Monkeys!
And then they hopped in the car and forgot to pour in the “miracle of nature.”
I got a frantic phone call later that evening: “The Sea-Monkeys!!!”
“What!” I answered. “Are they loose?!?”
No, but I had to do the deed. I had to make “instant life!”
That’s a lot of responsibility on a fella’!
The instructions added more pressure: “Congratulations on becoming the owner of the most fantastic pets to ever live and breathe!” Wo! Better than a panda bear?!?
It was fairly straightforward. Just pour the package of Sea-Monkey crystals into the plastic aquarium. Stir with the spoon. Rejoice!
It wasn’t difficult at all. My mind raced with questions: When would I see them?
Were they really alive? Would they need a snack? Do they eat bananas? How did they survive in the package? Was it cramped? Do they smoke? What would they look like?
The packaging had drawings of scaly, webbed humanoid creatures swimming about. They had red antennas crowning their heads. They had webbed tails and bows in their hair. They had chubby little children and goofy smiles! Rosy cheeks! LIPSTICK!
I don’t scare easily, but suddenly the Sea-Monkeys had me a little freaked out!
Here I was home alone — just the dog and me — and I had given “instant life” to a “miracle of nature!” I thought about calling 911, just to give them a heads-up about what I was doing.
In my big, dark, Sea-Monkey-riddled house, I started getting nervous. The aquarium cap wasn’t on very tight. They could easily get out. Can a Sea-Monkey be trusted? Would they steal my wallet? Would they mess up my DVR recordings?
What if they woke me up in the middle of the night? Wanted to go get burgers? How would I react to a smiling, rosy-cheeked, web-footed, hungry, been-stuck-in-a-foil-packet Sea-Monkey?
They filled my dreams that night. They wore nothing but my socks. They ruined all my duct-tape making Sea-Monkey sculptures. They got webbed fingerprints all over my iPad.
In the morning, I made the dog go downstairs first. If she survived, I would follow. I tip-toed down slowly. “Sea-Monkeys?” I called. “Just me. Don’t be alarmed. I have an ax and a flame-thrower. Nothing to worry about.”
I crept toward the kitchen expecting to see a family of Sea-Monkeys sitting at the table eating cereal. Nothing. I looked to see if anything was swimming about in the aquarium. No monkeys. No webbed feet. I wondered if I did it right. I wondered if they were still growing. I wondered if the keys to the car were still on the hook. Or had they taken it out for burgers?
Never can trust a “true miracle of nature!”