Crab Bachelor Party IV: A Crab Reborn

by bernquist

He fluttered in and out of crab consciousness. But he was never fully coming to. It was like going from a black hole, an empty space torn in the very fibers of time into a more dream-like state. He was seeing images from his crab childhood: his crab parents, the wheat eating hound who bit his face off, the stocky T.S.A agent from just days before…they were all there. All images and memories set to an ominous backdrop, a soundtrack as it were, of a snickering Ernie klent, the smothered laughter of a true monster. And then…his crab eyes opened. The crab was alone. Total silence. He was covered in dried owl blood and wooden corn meal. The surroundings were cold and damp, a dimly lit single room both long and narrow. The crab immediately recognized this as a shipping container. He stumbled clumsily trying to gain his footing and to his total astonishment as he got to his feet, struck his head on the wooden ceiling. The crab knew from his years of logistical experience as a civilian contractor that the ceilings in these containers were give or take 8 feet high. How could this be? He quickly realized that the container didn’t even come close to providing adequate space for him to extend his crab legs and display his new impressive crab span. His rage was growing. All the pain and strife of his crab past and now this? A simple bachelor party with his buddies from undergrad. That’s all he wanted. But no. Not you Mr. Crab. You were made to suffer and suffer unimaginably. Well not anymore. Now the crab was staggeringly huge and he was hell bent on making it count. He was going to make them all pay. Whether it be that wrench handed bastard Ernie Klent, the razor clam that stole his lunch box in 2nd grade, his lobster pig friend who told his crab parents he was growing pot in high school, the wooden tusk stump at the office. All of them. They had no hope now. They were going to get a not so friendly visit from a titanic brown killer crab…

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