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Writer's pictureThe Fake Guru

The Man with the Lobster Hand

Updated: Jan 31, 2022

One day, we went to a rave at the top of a mountain.


As we walked up the gravel road our path merged with those of creatures and people, animals and beasts, witches, wizards, fairies, elves, dwarves, and goblins alike. All had come from far and wide to partake in the festivities, and so we followed the sound of the bass which came droning down from the mountain summit.



It was a sight to behold. Rainclouds had gathered on this gray summer day and in our ascent we felt like the demi-gods of old visiting Mount Olympus. We watched from the peak as grey masses of air creeped up the forest-clad mountain slopes. Below us there was nothing but lush, rain-draped greenery as far as the eye could see. At the base of the mountain sat a long, sickle-shaped lake, the mist swirling above it in large wisps of smoke.


The clouds drew closer and the electronic music picked up. A sorceress went around handing out magical potions filled with happiness and love; fairies fluttered to the beat, sprinkling the crowds with glittering fairy dust; the wizards stood in circles taking deep puffs from their wooden pipes, purple fumes billowing around them; and a young boy twirled around a beautifully ordained fountain, dancing with it while its waters bubbled with life. It was a flurry of colours and light.


As the first drops of rain broke against the summit and the mist rose to swirl around us, the Man with the Lobster Hand appeared. Wearing nothing but a pink, flowery bathrobe, he grinned at us, his face flushed and boisterous, a cigarette clamped firmly between his lobster claws, the tip lit. He embraced us.


“Last week,” he said joyously, “I visited a magical island hidden in the Mediterranean Sea. And one night, as we were feasting, I encountered a wonderful lobster. It was fabulous… it was the most magnificent lobster I have ever had the pleasure of meeting! I felt such a special connection to this lobster that it gifted me its claw. And so, I made it my own.”


Blissfully, he waved his lobster hand at us, the cigarette still clamped firmly between his pincers.


“It is now part of me, on a deep and emotional level. And if someone offered me one million dollars right now for this hand, I would not give it to them!” He shook his head, smiling in all seriousness.


And, as we left the celebrations making our way down the mountain, we knew: Had we but a million dollars right then and there, we would not have put his claim to the test.




The End

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