Crab Dreams

crabs can be dangerous

The crab claws rose up from the sea, rigid and straight. Up and up they went. Then came the two small eyes on the two thin stalks, and then the rest of the creature emerged. Riding on top looking as proud as Neptune himself was the Boy. Crusty, dripping reins were held in his tiny hands. He beamed with pride as the crab walked slowly onto the beach. To conquer the world of milk cartons and rodeo shows was no easy task for a boy, but he had help! The crab was a real monster. No one would dare look into its small, black, sad eyes. Those eyes were a vacuum sucking up the dirty-dusty souls of the world. Souls to be transported, stored, condensed, liquefied and bottled. Souls for sale, souls to drink, souls to make even the tiniest of creatures big and mighty. To drink of a soul was the happy pastime of all elite crustaceans. The crab clicked its claws and smiled inside its crabby mind. Snip! A milk carton cut in half, milk spilling onto the sand, washing away the memories of the old man who daily walked that beach with his little metal detector, searching for his lost watch, the gift of a childhood friend long dead. Milk mixed with salty sea water. The boy looked down and smiled. With a whip of the reins the crab advanced forward. Milk cartons were crushed underfoot. Rodeo clowns tumbled this way and that, avoiding the darting points of the crab's fast moving legs. A few of the braver cowboys, lassos in hand, attempted in vain to catch two of those feet together. Hopeless! The crab continued. The boy laughed and danced, reins in hand, as the giant crab brought destruction to his nightmares.