This is my most realistic story.
Lobster Harry was crammed into a tiny tank at the local Fresh Mart. He shared the already claustrophobic space with a dozen other lobsters. His claws were restrained with rubber bands. He was frightened and hungry and couldn’t stop thinking about his family. Back home on the reef, he had a beautiful lobster mate and fifty thousand larvae. He had been on his way to see them when he was taken.
Hideous faces kept looking in at Lobster Harry and his fellow prisoners. Sometimes a great hand would descend from above and take one of the others away. He wondered where they went and why they didn’t return. Maybe they had gone home to their families. He hoped so. He hoped he would be taken soon so he could go home.
Finally, his turn came. The great hand took him by the back and lifted him out of the tank. He was put into a little white box.
He could feel the box moving. Was he going home? He thought of all those little larvae. His stomach grumbled. He was cold.
You probably think you know where this is going and you are probably crying and vowing to become a vegetarian. Fear not, Lobster Harry does not end up in a kitchen.
You see, the person who bought him was a member of the Lobster Freedom Foundation – an organization dedicated to rescuing grocery store lobsters and setting them free. He took Lobster Harry onto a boat and returned him to the reef.
The scuba diver opened the box and Harry recognized the familiar coral. He was back! Soon he would be with his family. He would be full and comfortable. As he scurried home, he noticed some of his larvae swimming toward him. His heart leapt. His pace increased until he was among them. Then he ate them.
He noticed his mate peeking out of a nearby cave. He realized that he was still hungry and so after an extended battle, he ate her too. Three days later, Harry shed his shell. A neighboring lobster found him in this vulnerable state and ate him.
Lobsters are jerks.
This story is dedicated to my sister’s pet crayfish who ate his mate and continually fought with our other crayfish through the tank divider. His name was Harry. He was kind of a jerk but we loved him anyway.