Crab Bachelor Party III

by bernquist

“Do I have to?” he said in a sort of bland expressionless tone, the tone of defeat, of near indifference, of imminent surrender. A tone that had come to the precipice of despair and not welcomed but accepted it with no viable alternative. It was already too late. Just seconds later, the crab was lowered into the scalding hot caldron of owl blood (actual boiling great horned owl hemoglobins) by his taloned wood boring freak of a captor. It was then that he was enveloped in an unexpected blanket of peace, the kind of peace he had heard about in crab folklore, but had never truly known…until now. Ernie Klent gazed downward and sneered in triumph (as only a half bark beetle half dead albatross with eaglet legs can) for he knew that this was the end for the crab, or so he thought…