A Crab With a Pinkish Hue

If I were a crab with a pinkish hue, I would tell all my little grandcrabs about how I escaped many years ago, while I was being boiled alive. I would tell them how I killed the chef with his own mustache. I would tell them how I had to hold my breath for 16 hours as I slowly scuttled my way back to the ocean. I would tell them how I live with one foot in the grave and they would all stare at my missing crabfoot, and their crabeyes would make their way up to my crippled crab crutch, clutched under my crabarm.

I’d tell them about when I got back and the girlcrabs were all over me.

I would regale them with a story of the time the mayor of crabtown offered me a medal for my heroic brave crabbery. I would write a memoir called “memoirs of a crab with a pinkish hue.” I would sell millions of copies in hundreds of crab-languages.

I would give motivational crabspeeches at renowned crabuniversities. I wouldn’t have a large crabhead about it though. I would maintain the crabmodesty passed onto me by my crabgrandfather, who was in Crab War II. I would try to go about my normal crablife without the crabpress or the crabparazzi sensationalizing the event. I would always tell people my story one-on-one, on my own terms, so they could understand the crabfeelings I experienced during my landtrials.

In my older age, I would start a new crabreligion, whereby crabyouths are forced to endure a landtrial of their own. That would be very native crabmerican of me, and I would feel a connection with mother sea. On my crabdeathbed, I would have every crab dear to my crabheart huddle around my crabfire and I would tell them how much they’ve meant to me throughout all my crabyears. Then, I would take the crabliverspotted crabhand of my dear crabwife and I would pass away quietly.

I would scuttle into the great ocean in the sky, ready to face my crabdeathtrials so I could enter crabhalla.

On quiet nights forever more, crabs would hear me whisper encouraging crabwords  to them as they faced great crabdifficulties in their crablives.

And for many crabyears to come, around crabfires under full crabmoons, my story would be told: the Legend of the Crab with the Pinkish Hue.