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john rah's world report short story feature
crabs written by john rah
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<start crabs by john rah>
crabs
woke up this morning, the ugly sun digging its way through my rotten wooden shutters. A fly beat itself against the glass in its quest to burn out its life so that it could lay on the sill with the rest of its family. A rancid smell came at slow intervals to assault my smoke dried nose. I turned to see what was causing the dreadful stench. A face. A face on a head lay open mouthed on the neighboring sweat-stained pillow. I didn't know the face but could vaguely remember the encounter with other parts of the body. There had been a feast of breast, and legs wrapped around me. My head. My body. I had put everything I had into the dripping opening between the endless length of legs.
My underwear was crusty from the leftover juices on my genitalia. There was an itch. An itch that had grown through the night. It was an itch that was driving me to distraction even before being molested by the viciousness of the morning light.
I scratched. The more I scratched, the more I itched.
I ripped off my underpants and stood in the sun.
"Crabs!"
"What!" my goddess of dirty love screamed, sitting up and looking for an invasion of vermin.
"On my sack, on my bag."
She looked at my cock and pulled it up to inspect my sack.
"Look, they are running up and down your legs. They're building a road and laying down tracks. I think they have a tunnel built. It comes out here on your spine. Here is a city in the hair of your neck. There's a traffic jam in the valley of your ass."
"My god, what have I done?"
"You've done nothing."
"That's easy for you to say."
"Why?"
"Why? I don't know why. Take me to a doctor before I'm eaten alive."
She put on a bra to hold up her mammoth breast while I scratched and I scratched and inspected my chest. There was a fight or a riot, perhaps all out war. Crab against crab, likely fighting for land rights. There came more and more. Under my arms and even between my toes. They covered the bed and were springing like lemming to the floor.
Falling out the door, we hailed a cab.
At the hospital, they locked me behind glass.
"Help me!" I screamed.
The doctor's voice came through a small speaker in the ceiling, "Son, I'm afraid it may too late. In many places you are already down to the bone. We'll try our best..."
He went on telling me about the gasses that were being filled in to my room. Already the crabs were prepared for chemical warfare. That was the trouble with this particular breed he went on to explain. They developed technology much faster than most crabs and were likely to have a counter attack prepared. And even if the doctor and his gasses managed to kill the nations of crabs, he couldn't promise me I would survive the world, my body, contamination. I might die as well and if I didn't die, I will wish that I would have. And after that, I could remember no more.
<end crabs by john rah>
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