January was marked with hilarious tales of my 10-year-old son’s Hermit Crabs who have brought laughter and a little horror during that anxious time, because they are cannibals.
Fries, who ate Cheeseburger’s legs while they were still attached to Cheeseburger, was particularly bad. He dug himself into the dirt for a week, was declared dead when we found his body, and was resurrected from the dirt, bigger and with more attitude. He ran around the crabitat for days, naked and unafraid, chirping and clicking the soundtrack of every Stephen King novel ever written. He ate his own carcass, and then finally picked a glow in the dark shell in which to live. Because, of course he wants to glow in the dark.
Today, Fries is hanging out on my desk and has decided that he’s safest between Green Syd and Pink Syd, which is probably true, because Syd is helping me to make some money with my blog, focus on the novel, not panic, and remember to laugh and be kind.