The salt water lobster tanks were securely fastened to be transported aboard the mighty ship of luxury travel and exquisite foods. All the guests were in great peril, not one of them knew of their impending doom less than an hour away. Some were peering in and some were tapping to draw our attention, make us walk upon one another for a moment of amusement. Nobody could have known that in less than six hours, most all would perish at the bottom of the sea. Little did we know that this day shall live forever in lobster lore, an exodus if you will — an act of God.
We were intended too be served up hot, with melted butter in a formal dining room upon a well appointed tables, consumed by fancy people in expensive suits and gowns and things that sparkle from their necks and heads, their wrists and their fingers.
The chefs inspected each of us, upon pulling me out of the holding tank, he stared at me closely. It was as if he felt, even if for just a quick moment, a little shread of sympathy. I wondered what he was thinking, if he felt some sad emotion for just me, how about the rest of us? In total, we were about eight hundred. We were not scared, we know these waters well and we all knew of the great icebergs that lay ahead, we knew their demise and our freedom was just moments away.
Hearing the screeches of people after the mighty ship struck, the glass in our tanks flexed with impossible strain. After fourty five minutes, the ship cracked in two and a hundred or so unfortunate humans were hauled down toward the sea bottom. We all watched in terrific disbelief as we were swept like an aquatic vacuum out of the tanks and back into the ocean. The humans swung their arms more frantically but to no avail, they knew that it was the end for them. And we realized it was a new lease on life for us, we had been freed by an act of still nature, more of us poured out from the ship singing many pretty tunes of happiness.
The lesson among these lobsters was simple– do not take the bait. No matter how much you want to give a taste, as much as you want to take a bite, you must not — or you’ll find yourself on a plate with your picture on a bib.