When I opened the door, the smell hit me

When I opened the door, the smell hit me so hard that I couldn't breath.

Most would think literally eating crow would an unappetizing experience, but it beats eating my hat or humble pie.

So I dug in, not knowing quite what to expect, but hoping for the best. My first bite of crow tasted...oily...gamey...a tad putrid, I thought. "Please pass the ketchup," I asked.

Slowly, everyone cocked their heads in my direction with an intimidating stare, "Oh no!" I realized, these weren't regular people, they're were the lobsters in disguise!

The lobsters shambled towards me, trying not to draw attention to themselves, for their business suits and 50's house dresses didn't well hide the fact that they were lobsters.

I passed a note, hand scribed on perfumed lilac paper, to the lobster who seemed to be in charge--inasmuch as a lobster can ever be deemed to have leadership qualities. She read sl

owly. It was true. The lobster really had been put in charge. A LOBSTER. Of all the creatures he could have put in charge, it was the lobster. The ones with big, scary, nippy claws

who sit for hours every week in the salon, like that is going to solve all of their problems. So shellfish. What they really need is to find something more meaningful to do, like

create a race of mutant cyborgs, invade a planet, turn it's inhabitants into robotic slaves and use them to drill into the planet's core and turn the planet into a giant spaceship.