The Lobster Wars of 2007
I want to be sponsored by an invincible drunkard the way a big fat lobster gets sponsored by an invincible drunkard when it’s lying on the kitchen counter getting ready to be eaten. The lobster doesn’t apply for welfare because that would be absurd. It doesn’t challenge the chef to a duel where they recite chewy cookie recipes, because the lobster knows it can’t win that. The lobster doesn’t try to rent an airplane and taxi it down the taxiway to the active runway and then race down the runway until it takes off into the air and sweet, sweet freedom, because lobsters can’t fly.
No, the lobster simply has to stuff itself full of scallops and hope that he can be sponsored by an all-powerful and invincible drunkard. That’s why I’m stuffing myself full of scallops.
Plan B is to stuff myself full of shrimp so that I can warp into some other dimension, preferably a tango dance dimension where those freaks who are intolerant to the tango are exiled to Luminescence Island and where they’ll glow brightly for the rest of their lives. But for all I know, Luminescence Island might actually be full of thievish possums who’ve built gigantic forts out of the luminescent rosewood trees that make up the island, and they’ll protect the tango haters until they can form a powerful alliance and declare war on those of us who, until now, were safe in our invincible drunkard sponsorships.
As that story unfolds over on the island, we need to hope to be able to find some spare referees who can camp out under the stars and keep our scoreboard updated with the latest maize shucking statistics. I’d call it corn shucking, but the lobsters hate the word corn. It drives them absolutely nuts. I know they don’t have any power over me and my language, despite their monarchist fantasies that play out in their lobster dreams, but I feel that I should respect their wishes and avoid using the word “corn” if it’s at all feasible.
Who knows when the lobsters will team up with the possums and take all the power, and use it to dress up in fancy costumes and take out their revenge on anyone who uses the word “corn” too freely, when they could have been calling it “maize” all along.
Maybe I can hide behind large, invincible drunks, but probably not. Those lobsters are cunning and neatly laundered animals who are completely resistant to microwaves or silver bullets. We must get our midget armies fully trained and ready for battle before it’s too late! Don’t be distracted by your New Year’s Eve champaign, that’s not what’s important right now. The Lobster Wars of 2007 are what will be important, and those of us who can get a head start on our costumes and a head start on practicing our string quartet pieces will be the ones who will live to see 2008.
Long live our string quartets! Down with the lobster string quartets!