We have a fish. His name is Poop.
My roommate named him such because:
1. The haiku that won her the fish had a hook about poop and
2. Her brother is Michael.
I'm looking at him right now, and he's moving his fins and his mouth in the gulpy "O" that fishes always do, and it looks like he's moving his fins and gulping water to the beat of "Such Great Heights" by the Postal Service. He is definitely our fish. And I think that Muslim may have had an influence in Poop's musical taste. Let's hope so, because Muslim's musical taste is rad.