Little Getaway

Crab Crab was an odd little fellow. Both because his personality was so unique and unusual and because he was in fact a crab. Despite this, there he sat with his friend, sitting up and staring at the clouds, talking away. 

“And so so I say, I say,” he wholeheartedly laughed “you mean this was Italy the whole time?!”

His human friend wheezed. The build up was truly worth it for this joke but is far too long to explain again. 

What was his friend’s name again?

Oh right. Johan Goodman

“You’re insane my good friend,” Johan phrased through his wheezings, “you’re lucky you didn’t even end up at their meal!”

“What can I say,” the crustacean nudged his friend’s shoulder as an act of playful cheer, “I can crawl myself out of situations just like I crawl into them!”

The two laugh until Johan seems to start coughing a bit too much. It was scary, they were ramping up more and more. Crab Crab knew this. 

Crab Crab knows a lot of things. 

“Hey do y-“ he was very quickly shut down, Johan shushing him between good times to speak. 

“Keep talking to me, Christopher,” he croaks, “ain’t nothin’ me and you can do right now other than talk.”

“R-right.”

He thinks of something to distract his anxieties. Feeling the dirt under his claws as he paced. The firmness of the soil. He was spinning in circles at this point. 

“Better slow down there,” Johan chuckled, having watched Crab Crab to a dizzying extent, “gon’ make me see heaven.”

Crab Crab stopped in place and stared for a moment. Being a crab, he had no facial expressions, no human body language to properly show his feelings. You’d only know until he’d start talking. 

“What’s your favorite place to go, Johan, what puts you on cloud nine, the cream of the crop places to be” he asked, “and don’t say the bar. You’re not allowed to drink anymore.” 

“Didn’t know you were my wife,” Johan joked, giving his chest one more good pound for safe measure. Stroking his beard, he thought critically. There wasn’t much for him to do other than sit in different places to watch the world go by. Couldn’t go very far either. 

Definitely meant Crab Crab was planning something. 

“I always enjoyed,” he looked over at his companion, “the idea of a museum. Never been to one. Never even wanted to be in one until now. But I like it. Maybe has a couple trophies from our time, show the kids what’s right. Give them hope.”

He used his cane to poke Crab Crab, giving him a jump. 

“Don’t you go and try makin’ me a museum, Christopher,” he advised, “you told me you’re already fightin’ for those kids. Lord knows they need it. Money is tough as it is.”

“Just,” Crab Crab poked and pulled at the grass, “don’t want ‘cha forgotten.”

Crab Crab wasn’t ever going to listen. He knew how to pull the strings to make one real, he knew how to bullshit his way into getting one built right where they stood. He’d fought his own moderate depression, who said he couldn’t fight the country’s great one?

“Someone always remembers.”

That’s right, Crab Crab thought. That’s always true. Someone always remembers and that someone would be him.