Allow me, if you will, to paint a familiar scene for you. You’re swimming in the ocean, that great, untrustworthy bitch from which we all were born. You look down. You see something move — scuttle, to be precise — toward your foot. You freeze but it’s too late. You feel a pinch and cry out. You make your way to the sand, limping and wincing in pain when you hear the exasperated voice of your mother: “Relax, it’s just a crab. It won’t kill you.”

My name is Damien, I am a crab and your mother was wrong. I absolutely CAN pinch you to death.


I will wait.

Let me repeat: I CAN PINCH YOU TO DEATH. I’m not talking about getting one lucky squeeze on your aorta, no. That would be far, far too simple.

Crabs have been training in Kai Do Chi (a martial art form we invented) to deliver swift, painful death to invading surfers and idle swimmers. I can deliver a series of individual pinches so quickly and with such cunning stealth, you’re dead before you can even scream, “Lifeguard, I THINK a crab is pinching me to death!” Paralyzed in pain, fear and humiliation, you will bleed out or drown (whichever comes first).

Why? The powerful shark lobby has perpetuated with myth that they are the only predators humans need fear in the oceans. But ask yourselves: Whose people are being butchered by the thousands, boiled alive, flesh tossed with mayo and panko, then laughing called a ‘cake’? Whose people are mocked as impotent sycophants in cartoons such as The Little Mermaid and Spongebob Squarepants? We have heard your laughter. We have seen the bloodshed. And we have adapted.

This summer, let it be known: the crabs are coming. There will no mercy. Only the terrible justice of the sea.

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