Huge, Brown, and Hostile: The CRAB’s First Strike

by bernquist

He had read countless tales about vengeance in the past; an abused child lancing his clam-juice-enthusiast father, a miscreant forgotten by society spraying a McDonald’s with an actual spicy Dijon fire hose, a disgruntled employee eating all the corn and killing all the snakes while pooping on the dinner table. He’d heard it all. But he never thought he would be in a position to exact revenge on those who had done him wrong. When he was normally sized, the whole idea was in a word, preposterous. But that was all about to change.

The CRAB peered through the double paned wooden window and saw him. That asshole tusk stump lay sloppily on his wooden couch drinking a pilsner and watching Whose Line Is It Anyway. The CRAB knew this could be his one and only chance. He crept stealthily to the rear of the residence (as stealthily as is possible for a nine foot tall brown CRAB in a residential neighborhood). To his profound joy, the back door was unlocked. Careless assclown, the CRAB thought as he somehow silently stuffed his giant crustacial corpse through the standard human-sized door without making a single wooden sound. He sneaked through the kitchen without incident and likewise through the dining room. The CRAB then found himself directly behind the slippery crusted bastard on his davenport.

CRASH!! Behind him, from the top of the antique china cabinet, an 18th century glass collector’s tusk stump fell to the floor and exploded into thirteen trillion magnesium pieces! The CRAB knew he should have stuffed some of that CRAB meat from his airport fiasco back into his legs, especially now that he was 4,000 times normal size and he rrrreeeeeaaaallllyyyy needed that meat to mobilize his crushingly heavy wool exoskeleton. But he had been careless and his loose unruly meat had struck the antique tusk stump! Panic!! The tusk stump whirled about on his wooden couch and leapt to his petrol feet! Before the CRAB had time to process the situation, the tusk stump had already grabbed a steel-handled tusk stump from his artisan collection and hurled it forth into the CRAB’s stupid left pincer! The CRAB screamed like a small wooden coward! He swung his right pincer wildly and by the grace of the CRAB gods connected, knocking the tusk stump backwards into his tusk stump case with such force that the blow left the tusk stump nearly unconscious!

He lay writhing on his wooden floor, surrounded by Tusk Stump of America volumes dating all the way back to the seventies. The CRAB approached slowly and cautiously, and then stood directly over the greedy tusk stump. He stared down at the pathetic menace, expecting to feel pity, some semblance of remorse. But there was nothing. The CRAB had only hate now and he knew this. As the tusk stump screamed like a brown wildebeest, the CRAB grabbed his wooden head with his monstrous pincer and crushed it in an instant. It was over for the tusk stump and as the CRAB cleaned up the tusk stump case and tusk stump volumes and eventually disposed of the tusk stump body in a nearby blood bog, he realized that while he had come here and committed this act in revenge, he was leaving with different motivations. He had gotten a taste of blood. And he liked it….