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Crustacean Chat

“Nice day,” bubbles the Crawdad.

“Good sunlight, I say,” hisses the Prawn.

“What are we all doing here?” queries the Rock Lobster, its legs flailing a little as it rights itself in the shallow water.

The room is made of cold granite: the floor, the circular wall, and the ceiling. Soft light radiated from a bare, low-watt light bulb. Of course, crustaceans don’t know what light bulbs are.

“Hey there, Prawn, do you happen to know what that thing above our heads is?” asked the Rock Lobster. Clearly, it was less of an intellectual than the Crawdad or the Prawn.

“I surely do not know, Rock Lobster, though I would hypothesize that it is a little piece of the sun.”

“I reckon it’s a monster come to eat us,” says the Crawdad. It wears a straw hat that covers both its head and its thorax.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like that eat, period, Crawdad. Perhaps you are mistaken,” skeptically replies the Prawn.

“You’d never know, course, anything about the real world at all, Prawn—too much time spent with your book learnin’, and whatnot,” retorts the Crawdad.

“Guys! Guys! Let’s not fight!” shouted the Rock Lobster.

And that was the last anyone heard from that particular trio of crustaceans.

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