The Ballad of Crabster

2 (or maybe it was 3?) days ago, I bought a crab. T'was a cute lil' fella. Small. Black. Cost me 20 bucks.

It looked like all crabs do. With claws and feet, and beady little eyes. But this was different. This was MY crab. And as such, I named him Crabster (since the preferred Crabbie was already my pet name for somebody else).

Now, Crabster would have been a crab amongst crabs. He would have travelled to uncharted places, done great crab deeds, been loved by the crab masses and would have obviously loved a great deal of the crab women himself.

However, the cruel hand of fate decided to rob me of my friend. After a night jog, as I was on my way to grab some food, I receive a phone call that changed the course of my night. It basically went like this:

I think the crab is dead. It's in the water. It's not moving.

Hearing this news, I rushed to Crabster's side (but not before I had food and a quick run to Desa Park City to pick up something).

So there he was. In his small little tank. Right next to stone I stole from the apartment's waterfall that was meant to be his perch. He lay there motionless. I called his name. He did not respond.

A cry of anguish escaped my lips:

OMGWTFBBQ!! We have to clean this shit up.

And so I did (with much required help from the aforementioned Crabbie). And lemme tell you guys one thing, dead crabs stink. It is a stench so rancid it causes me to involuntarily gag just thinking about it. Well, truth be told it wasn't really the stench of the dead crab, but the crab juice that was left in the tank. The combination of dead crab ooze, crab crap (oh look, did I just pun?), leftover fish pellets and chlorine water makes for a formidable combination.

Long story short, the crab got cleared (dropped into a plastic bag, thrown in a dumpster) and I will never love another crab the same way again.

Goodbye Crabster. You will be missed. The 2 (or was it 3) days you spent with us, will be remembered.

In memory of Crabster
Friend. Pet. Potential Dinner

Jere