We discovered something sinister tonight.
It was nearly two in the morning, only a little more than thirty minutes until the building shut down and noise in the hallways would result in fines. We were watching Rocky Horror Picture Show, Carolyn's first time. I think she actually liked it.
When the movies ended (we also watched Practical Magic - and that movie *rocks*) we all decided we were *starving*, so we decided to go to Sobey's - the grocery store that is one of only two twenty-four hour establishments in the entire town. We wanted ice cream.
We almost went to Subway - almost. But it must have been Fate. If we hadn't gone to Sobey's tonight, we never would have discovered the truth of the evil that lurks in this small, unassuming, rural Nova Scotian town.
Like most supermarkets in Atlantic Canada and the US, Sobey's has one of those tanks where they display live lobster. Most of these tanks are upright, with closed-in walls made of plexiglass. This one was little more than a shallow pool mounted on a table at mid-torso level.
Within it were about two dozen lobsters.
It was three in the morning, and we were mid-trek looking for Ben&Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie Explosion ice cream. We found frozen yogourt. It was just as good, though. And the caffeine therein made us hyper (not that we weren't before). We laughed. We danced. And then we went to see the lobster.
Usually, I think lobster are cute. Wandering helplessly around in their tanks with their claws tied shut, they look so guileless and innocent.
But when it's night, or the unlikely hours of the morning, they are different.
For the lobsters fight amongst themselves. Quiet and docile and practically unmoving in the daylight hours, at night, when no one but drunken college students and half-awake graveyard-shifters will ever see them, they back each other into corners, create dogpiles at the tank edges - possibly trying to escape.
The only ones who saw them tonight were we three - Carolyn, Keltie, and I. Snapping agressively at we humans peering fearfully over the edge of the tank. Jumping out of the water (I'm absolutely freaking serious) in a sinister manner. Waving and blinking their beady, diabolical little eyes at us. Knowing that even if we understand them, no one will ever believe us. Because that was their plan.
Because the lobsters have a plan. Oh, yes. A diabolical plan.
People blame pigeons, or cows, or bunnies, or even Canada Geese - but the real culprits are the lobsters. The lobsters are behind it all. Plotting quietly in the oceans and the seafood tanks of our towns, they are lying in wait, planning, waiting to take their revenge, to leap half-cooked from our stoves. And no one will ever see it coming. You will wake some night with a weight on your chest to a snapping sound. And then a crackly voice will say: "Where are your rubber bands now, human?"
But now we know. We had seen them on campus, the men in black, those ubiquitous, suspicious folk in dark suits and ties, wearing sunglasses even after sundown. We thought them government operatives, or maybe even vacuum salesmen. But even we never imagined such horror. Those strangers are the operatives of the lobsters, their servants. Everywhere, in every branch of the government, these people serve their eight-legged masters, waiting for their chance to take control...
...or perhaps they are not even human. Perhaps, beneath our very noses, the lobsters have constructed human suits, cyborgs that they can use to navigate our bipedal world with ease and sow the seeds of revolution.
Death is coming. And it's not from above, but from the oceans.
The dolphins have known for years. And oh, they have tried to warn us, again and again and again. But we, foolish mortals that we are, interpreted their coded jumping through hoops as mere play. But no. Now... now, I understand.
The lobsters are coming. And tonight, we realized that only we, the virtually-nocturnal among the humans, have any chance to stop them.
Because no one will ever believe us - until it is too late.
They are among us. The lobsters have a plan. And it promises the downfall of human civilization.
The lobsters are coming. And they must be stopped.
Updates as they come.
Whee! It's strange what I can actually write down at four-thirty in the morning, isn't it? It was funnier when we were actually *saying* it on the walk back. We kept looking back to see if the lobsters were following us. ;)
You know the really sad thing? I'm *not* drunk... o.O