A Crabby Lament by Dave Collins

A Crabby Lament From Dave Collins

Seagulls squawk the "dinners on" cry and I scuttle my bony butt under a hunk of driftwood just in time. Damn gulls... noisy useless eaters and I've got no use for them. I'd rather end up as flavoring for those fake 'crab' meat packages than be picked apart while still alive by the beaks of those devil spawn.

I don't think they can see me because they're still over there fighting over a washed up dead fish. I think it's a cod. Cod are pretty weird too, so self righteous and religious... always exclaiming prayers to "Mother of Cod"... they make me sick.

Horseshoe crabs suck too. They're no relation to me, I'll tell you that. They smell funny and though I must admit they can dance pretty good, I wouldn't want any of them living in my neighborhood.

Sometimes I wish everything would just up and die... everything but me of course. Then I'd be happy. Sometimes I.... *gakk* they found me, Holy Mother of Cod, they've got me. The beaks, arrgh, I hate those friggin beaks...if I could just pinch one of them in the groin... ah crab crap, why bother?.