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A Literary story pertaining to lobsters, psychology, and Cthulu
The universe, as it is commonly interpreted, is a wonderfully, amazingly mundane place, simply due to the fact, that in an infinite universe there are infinite mind-blowing life forms, laws, and planets, that soon, it begins to dwell on you; it’s all the same. A planet made of pure screwdrivers? Got it. A life form that eats its own brain in an attempt to gain infinite knowledge? There’s at least twelve of those. A law that make the punishment for suicide death? You should know about that one. In fact, perhaps only one story in this universe is interesting enough to warrant a narrative. It is the story of a man, a monster, and a tribe of people who worship lobsters.
On the costal shore of a beach lies a now decrepit shipwreck, bearing a plaque engraved with the phrase “Let the lobster carry us home.” The “us” in question is two men, one of whom is known as Steve Davidson, previous admiral of the heavily cliché space navy, he is a six foot tall, carbon based, ape descended life form from the planet earth, who crashed on this planet and took up residence in a local lobster worshipping tribe on the planet Zome after an incident involving one of his coworkers, Johnson. That was about ten years ago. The other man is Bombo, the chief of the aforementioned tribe. Davidson is in a similar situation to which he was in 10 years ago, as he has crashed onto an island. Alone except for his self, Bombo, and Cthulu, he is exhausted.
“Explain to me again,” asked Davidson, his voice more cutting than a goose with a machete, “why we came here!”
“Well,” replied Bombo, oblivious to the cuts of Davidson voice as though he were wearing Kevlar, “I believe that this started with a goose, an ice cream sundae, and a bolt of lighting.”
“And how did Cthulu get into this?”
Bombo thought about this for a while, but said nothing.
Cthulu, on the other hand, said, “MROWGHGHTHREOUTGHFMMPTPT:”
And then there were ninjas.
And these ninjas were selling melons.
The tribe of the Melon Ninjas was perhaps the oldest, and most insanely awesome, one on the planet of Zome. Evolution is a funny thing in that, if exposed to the same sorts of stress, two entirely different species will eventually evolve to look exactly alike. This is the case with the melon ninjas. The ninjas of Zome, like us, evolved from apes, and apes of coarse, eat plants, such as melons, and it just so happens that this particular island on Zome is perfect for growing melons. So when these ancestral apes eventually formed into clans, they created melon farms to provide an abundance of food. Now, as one might imagine, creatures spending all of their live growing a delicious food source need to defend themselves, so they created a clan of ninjas (the name is merely a coincidence, the ninjas of Zome share little with the Ninjas of Japan, and indeed, look and act more like Pirates). Once the planet had developed a currency, the ninjas took into selling these melons for money.
The Ninjas were most certainly indifferent to seeing Bombo and Davidson, and tried to sell them cantaloupe in exchange for some Butterfinger bars. For a moment, Davidson wondered if they meant the earth candy bar, or if the name was merely a coincidence. It wasn’t, as above him there was a sign, advertising in big, flashy letters, “THE MELON NINJAS, SELLING MELLONS FOR CANDY SINCE 1908!”
“Well,” sighed Davison, “that explains a lot.” However, He was hungry, and did have some butterfingers on hand, so they bought some melons, to eat at a late lobster lunch.
“Sir!” Called a ninja, “He’s here!”
“He’s here?” replied the shadowy voice from the chair.
“Yes, Sir... He arrived today with an alien and Cthulu!”
“Cthulu? That’s odd… does he know of the plan?”
“No, sir. He has no suspicions. We managed to sell him some melons.”
Bombo was horribly sick. He was weak, green (well, greener), poisoned, and by his calculations, had only 10 minutes to live.
“Isn’t there anything that could help?” inquired Davidson.
“We could,” Bombo wheezed, “try to jumpstart my metabolism and flush the poison out!” (Seeing as he was adding nothing to the story, Cthulu grew wings and flew to the marmalade planet, where he promptly turned into a squirrel.)
“What do we need?” asked Davidson.”
"Davison looked around, “How about this?”
“What is it?”
“Salt! That’s too salty!”
“Too salty? We’re surrounded by ocean! Why not just drink some salt water?”
Bombo did, “Now I need something spicy! Go into the forest *wheeze* and look for a girl called Sarah! Ask here for a red flower with blue spines, and then boil that in toad juice until- what’s that you’re pulling out of your pocket?”
“Hot sauce! Why on Zome do you have hot sauce?”
“It wakes me up in the morning, now drink!”
Bombo chugged the hot sauce, “Well, that’s better, and rather anti-climactic.”
"Sir!” called a ninja, “Bombo survived!”
“What!? That’s impossible!” screamed the shadowy voice, “How did this happen!”
“Well sir, it was the alien, he found an antidote- *Hcklglagh*” the ninja fell to the floor, dead.
“Very well,” said the voice calmly, “It would appear as if I had no choice, I will start now!”
“Well,” sighed Davidson, “what now?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Bombo, “I would say that we should get back to our island before something bad happens. There is a good chance that -“
CRACK! A gigantic fissure opened up underneath their feet, creating a hellish cluster of fire and lave, setting everything in the vicinity on fire.
“Oh crap,” said Davidson, “There doesn’t happen to be any giant lobster gods like there was last time, are there?”
“No,” replied Bombo, shaking, “There is no Deus ex machine to help us this time, and if I’m right, which I know I am, we’re pretty much more screwed than a lobster in a super-nova.”
“What does a lobster have to do with a supernova?”
“It’s pretty much screwed in one.”
From the fissure emerged a horrid creature, comprised of bits and pieces of lobster, skin, blood, lava, and whatever else seemed to be lying around.
“HA!” screamed the creature, who, for the sake of the reader, is now revealed as the shadowy voice from earlier, “I HAVE FINALLY GOT YOU, BOMBO!”
“Jenkat!” shouted Bombo, “What do you want here?”
“You know what I want; Revenge! I want you to feel the humiliation that you caused me!”
“And what does that entail?”
“The destruction of this planet, and your banishment. But first! Why don’t you tell this alien friend or yours about your greatest failure!”
“Bombo,” asked Davidson, “What is he talking about?”
“I-it,” stuttered Bombo, “was about twenty years ago. Our planet was very prosperous, with thirty odd tribes of people inhabiting different islands on the planet. My tribe was one of the most powerful, much like Ethiopia on your world.”
“Ethiopia isn’t the most powerful nation on Earth!”
“That’s what they want you to think. Anyway, Jenkat-“
“Yes, him. He was the leader of one of the least powerful nations on the planet, and he wanted more power. So, he struck a deal with-“
“No, an insurance salesman, but same thing. He got injured and was able to collect enough money to create a device that allowed him to combine himself with matter from other areas, such as the lava and skin you see here. He combined himself with everyone on Zome, until I managed to get the lobster god to stop him. ? He, he killed everyone.”
“THAT’S RIGHT!! AND NOW, LOOK AT WHAT I HAVE FOR YOU!!
YOUR GOOD FRIEND, THE LOBSTER GOD!!” Jenkat threw at the ground the cold, lifeless, perfectly cooked and succulent body of the lobster god. For a moment, no one said anything, and then Davidson chimed in-
“AND IM NOT DONE YET!! JUST LOOK AT WHAT’S GONNA HAPPEN TO YOUR FRIEND HERE, ALIEN!”
Beneath Bombo opened another fissure, sucking him in. Bombo screamed, “Davidson! You have to stop him! Try-” and like that, Bombo was gone.
“I- I did it,” stuttered Jenkat, “I actually killed Bombo! Yes! FINALLY! THE WORLD IS MINE!” and Jenkat flew off into the distance. But Davidson didn’t waste time. He had seen this a billion times when he was in the navy. Narrowly holding off tears at the death of his best friend, he pressed on.
At the tribe where Bombo and Davidson came from, the villagers could tell something was off. Maybe it was the slight change In the breeze. Maybe it was the fact that the lobsters were back in the sea. Maybe it was the rain of lava and skin falling from the sky. Maybe.
Jenkat had, in all meanings of the word, succeeded. The world was his, Bombo was dead, and he was able to watch the five O’clock news. And thus, everyone died
I suppose you’re not falling for that. Fine, kill a tree; make me print all of this! But I won’t write the parts you missed in that break!
Davidson had managed to return to his tribe by means of a boat fashioned out of Butterfinger wrappers. He was armed with only his wits, his fists, and a rocket launcher that he found in the temple of the Melon Ninjas during that incredibly awesome battle that happened during the break, he was going to get Jenkat.
“JENKAT!!!” he screamed, “COME OUT HERE AND FIGHT ME! YOU KILLED MY FRIEND, MY GOD, AND NOW I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!
“Tut-tut,” tutted Jenkat, “quite hyper today, aren’t we. You’re not going to win. Face it; for all intents and purposes, I am GOD! How are you going to kill me?”
“Like this.” Davidson reached for his rocket launcher, and aimed it at the dead body of a lobster. He fired, spraying lobster meat everywhere.
“What on Zome was that supposed to do? Ow! I just got hit by a lobster chunk- Oh No.” Jenkat’s matter was rapidly translated into that of lobster, and all of the geese on the planet were coming for a terrific feast. “No!” screamed Jenkat, “get off of me you stupid birds- AUGH! MY EYE!!”
You can imagine the rest.
Jenkat was defeated, but so were Bombo and the lobster god. But Davidson had an idea. He remembered the plaque: Let the lobster carry us home. Home, to Davidson, meant his tribe, with the Lobster god and Bombo. Maybe the lobster could carry him home. Bombo was not only the chief of the tribe, but the spiritual leader, so Davidson thought that maybe, just maybe, he could put Bombo’s spirit into the lobster god, in a way reviving them both. It worked.
And thus, things were back to the way they were, kind of. Bombo still had the same job as he used to, and he still did the same things. It was just that now he was a giant, omnipresent lobster, who probably tasted delicious. This is not to say that this is the end of the story, only the beginning of the end of the middle of the first quarter. If that makes sense. Unfortunately, this is the universe, so, most likely, it doesn’t.