Sunday, February 11, 2018

Shrimp Story

"Happy Birthday, Master Greg," Thomas said, voice muffled by a gruff of tentacles. He increased his lurch a few degrees in an approximation of a bow before returning to his usual candy cane posture.

"Did you bring me a gift, Creature?" the boy asked, eyes locked on the box Thomas held in his hands.

"I did indeed, Master Greg," was the gravely reply. Thomas pushed his four arms forward to underwhelming effect. The boy huffed and snatched the package away.

"What is it?" the boy snapped, already ripping into the paper.

"I believe the custom is for the contents to remain a surprise, Master Greg." The boy wasn't listening at that point; he was too engrossed in the process of ripping apart the gift.

After a few moments of struggle, the contents of the box were made plain; a white orb the size of a man's fist appeared in the boy's hand. A confused expression crept over the boy's face.

"What. Is. THIS!?" the boy exploded. "I ASKED FOR A BLASTER!" With that, he hurled the orb at Thomas.

"I'm sorry, Master Greg," the practiced words spilled out. "You know I can't purchase weaponry. Please accept this great pearl as my apology."

Thomas's words were too slow, however, as the boy had already stormed off screaming for his father. A sigh pushed its way through Thomas's facial tentacles as he bent down and picked up the pearl.

"What hope is there in this world of ingrates?" Thomas muttered to himself. "What hope can I have for humanity? Maybe they'll blow themselves up and I can return to the sea. Someday."

Thomas shuffled toward the garage to begin his day's labor.

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