Thursday, February 9, 2017


Lurid neon lights blinded me. I stumbled through Chinatown, thinking about that lobsters and what would become of them. I'd been drinking heavily ever since the incident, it rattled me and I needed to maintain equilibrium by getting wobbly. Could they really survive out here? Perhaps the ones that got into the storm drains could make a new life for themselves, have some kind of underground Huckleberry Finn lobster adventures. Perhaps they would let me come along on their raft, and over time we could break down the age old mistrust between man and lobster. We could forge a heartwarming friendship and then have it adapted into a Hollywood film and then get screwed out of any money and retire back to our home towns in disgust.

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