11 June 2009

I have crabs.

My friend Jen stopped by last week as she was passing through town. She gave me crabs.

Little baby crabs, that is, that she had had as classroom pets--not the kind one might acquire from using public restrooms.

(Disgusting sidenote: one time my aunt got crabs--the pubic lice kind--in her eye. She had washed her face and dried it with a towel my uncle had used, and he had crabs. By the way, getting crabs in your eye, and getting them from your brother, has to be among the grossest things on the planet.)

So there were two crabs, and I had planned on taking them to the beach and staging a dramatic release. But I didn't, because I have important things to do: work and take naps and bake cupcakes and shred.

Today I looked in their cage and realized that the small crab was missing some legs. The big crab was trying to kill him! I was so angry with the big crab. This tiny little crab was trying to escape the clutches of the big one, but it couldn't walk. It was just scooting around very, very slowly while the big crab had its big mean claw up in the air and was bullying him.

Now there's only one crab. I let the big one go in the front yard, where he will get a taste of his own medicine. My front yard can be deadly! (Remember the snake, the slug, the jumpy frog?? That jumpy frog will most likely seek him out and poison him.)

One of my first projects for the summer is to nurse the small crab, whom I've named Maryland, back to health until he is healthy enough to move to the beach.

How long does it take to grow back a couple of legs?

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