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pun-ishingiguana · 2 years

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Every night you dream that you talk to a genie, when you wake up you can't remember what you wished for. One morning you wake up with a giant crab pincer replacing your right arm. What do you do?

I click my right arm experimentally. Well, right claw. No that didn't sound right... Ah yes, a pincer!

A small victory over the morning fog in my brain! I click rapidly in excitement, the orange-red chitin blurring so familiarly. I stopped that urge after a moment. It just felt so... Instinctual. Heck, the pincer somehow angled itself to bounce upon my soft duvet and not clip my countless soft plushies surrounding me. It was truly dexterously intelligent.

Wait, no, since the pincer was on my arm, I was the dexterously intelligent one. I nodded to myself, yay for me! My pin- I did the proud chitter.

More importantly why did my attention go to my pincer? Well I felt it was wrong and unnatural bu-

NO!

My eyes darted to my left hand in the span of a heartbeat (which was skipped). I can't have a pincer there too! I was left handed!

My left hand lay on my weighted blanket innocently, as if it wasn't the core of the fuss. I poked it with my pincer warily and felt a small spike dig into my skin. Well, it was my hand alright. Phew. I was relieved to have dodged a predicament. Truly, it was superior and blessed to be left handed. Our hearts (still twitchy and hurt a little) were on the left too after all. The left brain did the better part too. I didn't remember, but I think it was smarts. I was smart. A theory supported by evidence, something only the lefts were known for. The more I thought, the more I confirmed with myself. But for the life of me I couldn't remember where or what I read.

I drummed my fingers (obviously showing off dexterous genius to my pitiful right) as I scanned the room I was in. Being left-brained, I'd pick out clues swiftly.

A window so large there wasn't any wall on that side of the room. The window or wall (winall?) was highly impractical but it was on the right of me after all, so I can forgive it. Some drapes seemed to be hidden at the top, with a thin looped cord reaching the carpeted floor. Though it did offer a beautiful view of a beach being encroached upon by the ocean on one side and a forest on the other. The sun rising painted an exquisite picture I couldn't help but admire for a moment.

Directly in front of me was rows of artfully placed lights within the tapestry, mimicking twinkling constellations and producing ambient light. Well that was quite a sight too. The only exit in the room was on the wall directly opposite the foot of my bed. It was made of a rich and dark type of wood, it oozed something high-quality. A pair of paintings on either side, undoubtedly a pair, one showed humanoid flame as the focus and the other a humanoid gust. A suit of armour stood on the left, holding a large halberd (in its left!) and certainly didn't have a pincer for a right arm. So I was right! Well, I preferred left. Anyway, this wasn't normal (since when was being correct right? Annoying). I clicked the pincer methodically, joining the rhythm of my fingers. Decorations, or maybe just really, really old things adorned a small table on the right of the door.

The left of the room was filled with cupboards and dressers, with a full length mirror in its centre. Efficient. As expected of the left side. I took in the entire room and...

Huh.

It was about time grogginess made itself scarce and my higher brain functions kicked in... And yet...

I CAN'T REMEMBER A SINGLE DARN THING!!!

OH GOSH, OH MAN!!! AAAAAAAAAAAA I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I'M A HUMAN WITH CRAB PARTS OR A CRAB WITH HUMAN PARTS

After staying calm and collected after this world shaking revelation, I decided to coolly get out of bed. Thinking so, I flexed all my muscles and leapt out of bed. Only the weighted blanket stopped my from shooting through the wonderful ceiling, I know. And also my pincer got caught in the bedsheet and blanket. Darn those spindles! I vigorously shook it to free it, but alas I only created a cascade of my soft plushies. A baboon, an owl, a veena... Well there were quite a lot with no pattern. Maybe they were just cu-

thunk

MY PINCER?! My left hand came to the rescue (as normal) and deftly removed the cloth. Although I distinctly heard it come from the other side of the bed, where the plushies landed. My attention was elsewhere, however. The high headboard had blocked the back wall from my prone position. There were... So much writing and notes stuck there. A whiteboard that held a lot of crazy writing. I think... It was cracking some code? A language maybe? I stared and stared at the various pages clipped there stroking my beard (with my left hand) until...

Understanding bloomed in my head. Along with a migraine that clubs wished they could cause. It felt like NOW a haze over my mind lifted. I tried to parse the sudden resuscitation of my entire life story as a guest of wind ruffled my hair and the notes.

Wind... In a closed room? My distracted brain caught up and I suddenly became aware of a presence. It was unlike when your mind feels a presence and sends a signal, either a chill or some blur in the peripheral vision. My gut and mind outright screamed at me to turn to the other side of the bed, to face it. I turned and saw. Floating there was a brass teapot sporting two dents, one in the shape of my pincer. But that wasn't what commanded my focus. It was the swirling, twinkling cyclone floundering around.

Identical to the pair of paintings, yet so much subtler and that much scarier. As my eyes roved over its form, I felt my gaze lock over a certain part and the... Thing reacted. It weaved itself, sideways, into itself, out of and bobbed and bubbled. It freely changed its volume for a few moments before it 'spoke'.

It's speech didn't hurt but it was not, could not be produced by the physical world. It was... Like the electromagnetic spectrum could chortle and chuckle and even that description felt lacking. Similar to how the voice left me, feeling so pitifully less when there was just so much MORE in that voice alone.

D̸e̴a̸r̶U̷̧̢͍̖̫̦̙͉̝͖̩̪̯͇͇̯̹̰͔̦̼̖̟͔̰͈͈̬̦̞̙̳͑̓͛̎̄̒̄̅̈͋́̾͒͗̈̈́̈̐͌̀̽̈́̔̈́̒̈́̈́̍̾̇͐̈́̕͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅs̵̡̡̧̢̢̬̩͍̥̩̖̤̘͓̪̤̝̪̹̲̖̟̗̩̫̫͓̪͍̻͔̖̼̭̦̬̻̗̜̠̏́͛̃̈̀͌̈́̐̅͌̂͆͑̍̈̑͘̚̕͘͜͜ͅͅȩ̵̡̡̡̢̪͖̠̭͙̣̫̺̤̯̝̲̦̪̰̙͍̠̳͔̺̘̜̼̮̩̞͖̘͍͎̯͎̝̖̯̯̱͉͙̘̖̄̄͒̎̈́͗̑͛̈͘̚͜r̶̨̧̧̛̥̱͈͍̥̯̼̼̞͙̜̗̫̱̘̬͎͇̩̳̻̹̹͇̲͓̤͖͓͈̞̝̫̘̥͉̰̪͉̥̜͚͚̜̱̫͍͆̉̔̈̀̒̀͆̐̍͆̃̄͌̓̌̍̇͘̕͘͘M̷a̴s̸t̸e̴r̸P̵̨̧̧̨̧̨̛͚̳̝͉͓͈̗͔͇̳̖̮͖̘̹̭̪͖͍̗̹̼̙̻̥͓̖̼̯̻̰̭̻̜͇̖̹̒̑́̾̐̀̍̒̑͊̈́̌̃̍̇̐̊̂̈́͛̓̔̾̓̂̄̇̈́͆̕̕̕͜͜͝͝͝͝ļ̸̧̢̧̛̛̩͓̰̭̬͖̯͚͓̠͇̙̤͙̗̖̣̺̬͍̯̻̰̖̗͍̝͎͖̍̅̆̈́͋͌̐̾̀̅͐̀̆̑̅͗͐́̾͆̎̔͗̑͛́͌̈́̉̈͑̈́͂͂̈́̈́͗̀̒̍̎͘͘̚̕͘͠ͅa̷͋̏̑̾̾͋͂̑͝͠��̡̨̡̢̨̧͍̲͈̬̦̼͍̜̞̙̰̯͉̰͔͔̗͎͚̩̲̥͇͔̩̘̳̺͍̲̯͔̮͜͜ͅy̵̨̡̨̛̭͔͚̮̠̟̗̠͉̭̖̺̪̜̮͙̦̟̠̩̝̣̞̖̞̬̙̟̝͚̲̯̝̬͎̻̣̤̟̣̺̐̆̈́̒̆́͛̓̈̈̂̈́͑̒́͂̆͆̾̌̑̂͑͌͌͗͐̄̆̈́̋̉̇̎̌̀̚͘̕͜͜͝͝ͅe̷̡̡̛͔̬̭̳̤̤̝̗̝͓̘̳̥͇͈̠̫̰̺̩͓̥̗̘̙̘̱͗̊̓̏̔̂̃͑͂̈́͊̊̄̃̿̈́̾̑̽̿̾͐́͑̋͐́͗̾͗̿̂̈̾̏̈͂͒̾̾̚̚̚͜͝͠ͅr̴̹̬͋͛̌̅̋̐͊̇͗̊͌̾̌̀̈́͊̉̅̄̃̈́̅̐̉̾̈́͌͛̑͑̏͊̕̕͝, A̵f̸t̸e̸r̷ ̵e̷i̵g̵h̷t̶ ̷h̵u̷n̴d̷r̴e̴d̶ ̴t̵w̴e̷n̸t̵y̸-̷e̴i̶g̷h̷t̴ ̴q̸u̸a̸d̸r̴i̶l̵l̶i̶o̶n̴ ̷t̵h̷r̶e̸e̴ ̷h̸u̸n̷d̶r̸e̵d̸ ̴s̵i̶x̵t̸y̷-̶f̶o̸u̶r̴ ̶t̷r̸i̵l̶l̸i̷o̷n̶ ̵e̸i̶g̵h̴t̵ ̵h̶u̸n̸d̷r̵e̷d̸ ̶t̵h̴i��r̷t̸y̴-̷n̷i̶n̶e̸ ̷b̷i̷l̶l̵i̷o̷n̴ ̵s̸e̴v̴e̸n̶ ̵h̴u̷n̶d̶r̸e̸d̵ ̷t̵w̵e̸n̵t̴y̵-̴t̶w̶o̵ ̸m̵i̷l̵l̵i̶o̸n̵ ̷t̷w̵e̶n̷t̶y̴-̷e̸i̴g̴h̸t̷ ̸t̴h̶o̵u̴s̷a̷n̵d̶ ̵t̷h̷r̴e̸e̴ ̴h̶u̷n̸d̴r̷e̷d̵ ̵s̶e̴v̶e̶n̵t̶e̵e̸n̸-s̷̖̑ȉ̵͎m̵̡̉ȕ̵̲l̶̲̈â̷̺t̶̜̄ǐ̸̻o̶͙̚n̵̹̾ṣ̷͋,̵̩̋ ̵̖͆i̷͔͆ṭ̵́ ̴̻̋i̴̹̋s̵̼͆ ̶̢̋ǐ̵͔m̷̘̅p̷̧̀ọ̸̔s̶̜̈s̵̖͊i̴̮̓b̷̥̈l̵͇̃e̸͓͗ ̸̤̂t̷̼͗ǫ̸̂ ̷͖̐f̸͓͝u̵̫͒l̴͕̽ḟ̴̙i̸͕̊l̷͚̚l̸̝͆ ̵͓̂y̴̏͜o̵̼̾u̵̜̎r̷̗͗ ̴͍͋s̷̫̓e̸̱̒c̶̺̓õ̶̜n̴̘͘d̶̜̆ ̶͈̐ẇ̵̟ị̴̕s̵̖̽h̶̳̾.̸̲̚ ̴͓̊Ẉ̸͐ḛ̵͗ ̸̲̇a̵̰̅r̵̺̄e̵̻͐ ̶̻̈́u̶̼͘n̸̚͜a̸̤͑b̶͇̂l̸͈̽e̴̛̺ ̵̮̄t̷̯̊o̶͍͘ ̵͖̌f̸̮̾ỏ̷̟r̷̬̎g̵̢̍ḛ̶̊t̷̗͘ ̷̳͝ť̶̝h̴̙̔e̷̥͆ ̸̢̈́g̴̦̃ř̸̠à̷̫n̸̳̑t̸̮͝i̶͇͘n̵̗͘g̷̻͝ ̸̹̐o̴͙͝f̸͙͊ ̵̻̈́a̸͕̋ ̶͍̈́ẁ̴̩i̴͓͑s̸̢͆ȟ̴͙.̸̼͌ ̶͍͂P̶͓̏l̶̹͑e̸̬͆à̵̪s̸̘͠e̴̛̻ ̷̖̔v̶̳͐ì̴̺s̴̊ͅi̶͚͛t̸͖̅ ̸̈ͅt̵̯̕o̵̱̾ ̷͌ͅr̶̟̉e̷͕̋p̸͉͑ó̸̫r̵̲͝t̵̡͌ ̶̣͠t̴̫̋h̸͖̆ī̸̦s̵̙͘ ̷̨͂b̴̞̈ü̸̲g̷̔͜.̶̨̅ ̸̺̽T̨̡̕͜͠o̷͘҉ ͢͜͟͠T́͘͏h̶̨͝e͜͝͠ ̨̕͝I̸̷̵u҉̸n͟͏T̸̛̛͈̘̤̐̂͐͌̎̃̿͋̇̅͊̄͒̀̔͝ĥ̶̡̨̛̛̦̭̰̟͖͎̤̜͓͎̥̰͚͙̣̼̠̹̭̊́̈́̌̿̍͌̎́̉̾̅̑̐͆̾̈́̑̏̾̃͐͋̒̊͛͛̽̐͘̚͝͝͝͝͝͝i̷̡̨̛̛͎̪̭̘̪͈̲̝̅̈́̾̄̃̐̓̓͌̏̀͊̓̐̔̆͂͌̽̓͐͋̚̚̚͝͝s̷̢̧̡̧̥̥͚͍̣̮̰͙̺̝̙̮̗̦͎̳̻̙̺̜̫̙̻̙̏͐̏͐͊̑͌̒̐̋̄̐̍͠ͅ ̶̨̡̛̪͈̘̗̗̭͈̺̦̯͖̘̱̪͍̈́̍̉͛̐̐̎͊̑́͒̋̔͑͛̇͊̈́̊̎̐̍̈̆̇̏́́̑͌͌̾̊́́̈̀̌̅̅͠͠͠ͅw̸̨̡̢̢̛̼̦̝͕͕̫̤͔̩͓̯͓̪̠͎͙̣͓̠͇͓̯̠͕͙̮͈̳̳͉̺̽̈́̈́̂̈́̋̏̐͑̇̏̇̍̋́͑͐̔̈͆̆͌̍̓́̋͆̇͗̐͐̐̇̚͘̚̕͜͝͠͝ͅä̷̞͔͚̹̓̇̈́͋̀͊͂̕͜͝y̸̢̢̨̛͙͔̦͍͔͔̼̫͊͂̏̆͌̇̂̊͆͆̈̽̅̀͂͊͋̋͗͆̀̎̎̓̔̊͆͊̎̈́̀͘͘̚ ̵̡̝̺͕̼̙̞͉͂̃͌͛͗͘͝ͅt̷͇͚̞͇̗͕͔̣̝̺̗̦̯̫̼̜̲͙̞̞̥͍̥̫̣̳͔͖̺̜̭̞̙̹̬͓͍͕̝͗̌̃͆̀̏̚͜ͅͅͅŏ̷̜̱̖̻͈̞̣̩͕̲͚͕͎̜͓̭̯̪̖̭̯̼̖̮͎̟͔̯͙̘̗̀̊̃̽̄̓̅́͆̃͂̑̿̂́́̕͜͝͝ͅͅ ̶̨̢̧̡̛̪͈̱͎̤̙̮̮͉̻̪͎̥̥͚͈̟̟͚̪͍̥͇͍̬̹̫̱͕̀͆͋͗͌̌̍̄̔̇̇͐̈̋́̈́̏͑͛̾̔̓̽͛͘̕̕͘͜͜͝ͅţ̶̢̛̟̖͔̣̺̠̤͖͓̫̫̘̟̹̺͚͚̲̰̻̱̹̲̥̩͓̀̋̓̔̇ͅh̴̡̡̡̨̢̧̨̧̡̛̗̟̠͕̺̘̭̳̩̠̮̭͔̝̺̘̦̮̜̲̦͙̻̮̳͉̠̟̙̗͈͔͎̹̜͉͖̙̍̄͑͊̏̊̔̓̋͑́͑̿̈́̃̓̀̉̓́̎̈́̈̚̚̚͘͜͜͝ͅę̸̨̧̢̨̢̛̤̙͕̪̪͓̼̳͈̩͎̦̺̗͍̅̈́́̿̌̉̽̽͐͂͊͑̈́̉̍́̉̋̓͘͜͝͝ ̴̨̡̣̤̺͖͙̝̺̬̺̖̦̪͈͙͉̩̭̂̾̔̈̂͌̂̑͗̏͛̍͠n̶̡̡̢̤̩͎̟͔͙̜̫̻͈͚̻̯̤̮̺͎̣̤̫͈̭̯̥͕͉͉̰͇͓̙̹͎̥̰̪̤͊́̍̅͑̓̓͋͒̽̓̀̃̇̈́̀̀͐̒͑̃͂̇̉̂̐̌͒͐̑͌͒͗͆̑̂̌͑̚̕̕͘͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅe̶͕̬̺̅̋̿̾̌̅̓̾̃͂͋̅̂̊̂͒̎̉̇͋̏͐̍̄̂̃̍̓̓͊͌̉̕̚̚͜͝͝͝a̸͕̗̽̌͗̌͒̈̐r̸̡̡̨̡̨̡̟͎͇̠͙̻̦̼͎̠̲̖̹͍̻͔̤̱͍͕̺̮͕̬͎̭̘̘̱̜͖̤̤̱͚̫̲͉̾̂́̈́̿́̈́̀͂̅̑̌͐͐̽́͒̾͂͜͝ͅȩ̸̛͖͕̘̤̹̻͉͍̯̥͉̗̪͈̮͇̳̝̝́̐̓̍̏̌̌̿̿̊͐̐͆̈́̾̎͆̌̉͑̋̽̚͜͜͝ͅs̵̛͇̮̲̺̯̗̯͇̝̞̱̙̥͍̟͍̯̫͉͉̅̔̔̇̋͑́̈́̊̑̃̽̒̿͐͊̇̂͌̉́̌̈́̏̒̄̈́̓̒̀̕͘͜͝ṫ̷̨̨̨̢̨̨͉̼͍̹̪̥͎͔̠̠̥̠̞̰͍̟̣͚̘͔̟̠̻̙͇̫͉̪͉͈̱̱̥̰̯̤̣͖̙͈̪͓͕̳̒́̋̊̅̔̍̓͝ ̷̧̛̬̼̦̏͌͊̍͊̽̅̉̉̽̈́͊̄̈́̍́͗̐̈́̅͊̋͘͝I̵̧͔̠̦̎̉̽͐́̍̿̊́̒̀̆̈́̋̅ų̵̛͉̟̜̲̥͉͙̣̜͙̒͋̍n̵̨̡̡͍̯̜͕͈̙͈͉͔̹̙͔̟̫̹͚̖͈̮̞̪̙̪̥͓̹̜̩͋

My eidetic memory didn't need me to even glance at the notes on the wall behind. I grabbed a marker in a pocket and begun furiously scribbling on my new pincer arm. I remembered now, I had left the marker to scribble reports when I awoke from dreams. That was the only way to reach this... Jinn. To reach a state so uncorrupted by active thought and wisdom. I remembered it constantly chanting at me to access it properly, or more accurately E̶̛̛̲̙̝̣̤͈̤͈̩̠̺̣͙̾͆̀́̃͋͗̃͠n̷̞̯̼̣̭̺̦̳͉̔̈́̌̉̀ṱ̴̢̡̨̢̧̩̠̳͈̗̙͊̚͜ĕ̸̡̥͖̜̳̤̘͂̈́r̴̢͎̫̯͎̬̪̺̞͐̈́̋̈́̑͊͜͜͜ ̴͕̻͙̃̉̀̾͝ļ̵̺͚̥͍̹̬̪͔̭͇̜͍̗̮̬̳̑́̌̃̑̂͒̾͘͘͝͠o̸̧̟͖̦̍̋̑̀̀̓̂̍́̈͝͝g̷̢̧̧͙̦͔̖̥̪̞̣͖͔͕͉̋̔͋̃̇̿͋̉̊͘͝i̷̡̫͖͔̦̞͑͛̎̉̀̽ͅn̵̨̙͖͖̣̗̱̭̯͎̤̫̬͋̀͠ ̸̬̻͇̼̥̙͍͂̍̐̏̾͗̏ḓ̸̤̺̙̳̮̹͓̹̼̼̏̓e̴̡̧̛͔̝̰̟̘̣̼̟̥̘̝̍̎͐̎̇̉͗̌̐̕͘t̷̢̞͍̍͆̆͆̎͛̉́a̴̧͕̯̦͎͈̬͔̥͐̈ï̸̧̡̧̡͚̤͖̩͖̤̻̩̩͌͗́̒̀̊̓͋́̃̂̔l̷͖̼̝̦͕͎̉̀ş̵̳͓̩̪̘͖̠͉̬͉̹̦̞̎̔͜. I was still inexperienced in that language, but I knew I was close. I just did. And matters like this, it payed to trust your gut.

I glared at the now idle teapot surrounded by plushies. Thoth's baboon, Saraswati's veena and... Wan Shi Tong? Damn, I pulled all the stops, attempting to influence myself to getting knowledge. I side-eyed my pincer arm, well fuck, I certainly got myself a reaction. Wait... How DID I end up with a crab arm?

I wracked my brain and it showed me a scene. It certainly wasn't memory, I was climbing a rainbow using a dolphin (like a tool and I don't know how) while various symbols and characters circled me and made fun of me. Insults were mainly how I had a tiny head and yet was trying to become greater than them all. I was NOT affected by such trivial mockery. Except I slid down the rainbow on the dolphin, through the clouds and left them all behind as I blinked back tears.

At the bottom, the dolphin continued on through the floor but I stood firmly on the ground. Then suddenly it was overcast and the rainbow was turned to dust. The clouds got darker and darker and I felt greater and greater pressure, like I was suddenly Atlas on his first day. Just as quickly the clouds were evaporated by the sun coming down through them. Literally. The sun shrunk as it descended, it's heat destroying the world, burning it all to only a desert. I just stared up at the now white ball of pure energy that twisted the air around it. But it still kept compressing and shrinking as it got closer and closer to the desert, now even setting flame to dust.

Yet I stood there unharmed and horridly curious. It started to bob and twist in the same way the Jinn had and suddenly reality started twisting around it. It was fundamentally different than when air simmered. Now even the desert was aglow. The sky was still blue. I still stood. Then the marble of energy suddenly winked out of existence, but it's immense pressure could still be felt. Embers and simmering flutter in front of me, where it 'was'. The world was glass and I could see through it almost, impurities colouring it the entire spectrum.

The same as innumerous times before, it chanted its question at me. And I knew not why this time I was suddenly granted access. Maybe the dolphin was the answer. Or the glass landscape was just the right hue and shade. I had no idea how but I was somehow in, and even in my muted, dreaming state i felt deep disbelief, that I... Pinched my arm? My entire left forearm just folded and spun with the twist. And then... Oh no...

"Darn, I wish I could really pinch myself to see if this is real."

And then my right arm became a pincer. I cringed in shame, both in reality and in memory. But I outdid my stupidity.

"Oh man, I wish no one ever, ever knows I did that."

The Jinn froze for a single moment, then swirled and expanded, engulfing one corner of my vision to the other. The glass shattered and I fell into the void below. A deep dark patch remained in my memory before I awoke again.

I nestled my face into my hand and pincer. I should have used hypnosis or something... To better influence my subconscious state into asking for knowledge. I took the deepest breath I could and let out a huge huff. Clicking my pincer thoughtfully, I looked at the Jinn Lamp. No use crying over spilt milk, besides, it did say to visit something, right?

Just as he had that thought, it felt like it germinated, sprouted and bloomed into a new set of information, certainly not painful but horribly humiliating to me. It was a... Specific point in space. I didn't have the coordinates but I could certainly feel where it is, and thank goodness Earth was barrelling in its general direction.

I had a thought it was terribly convenient and coincidental but that can't be true so it slid right off my mind. It'll be quite a few years till I'll have to be at that specific place that passed that node. I glanced down at my pincer. I... Can't even go out in public now, I was most certainly resembling a character in Kafka's books.

I sighed. Well, no matter. There are always more wonders in the world to seek in the meantime. I gingerly picked up the Jinn Lamp and placed in on the bedside table. Horribly delicate for something so eldritch. I ran my left hand through my hair, leaving the mess behind me as I exit the room. I needed a strong drink. Alcohol in the morning is something I do not condone, it simply isn't the gentleman way. But desperate times do call for desperate measures. I was looking forward to scotch from 1900's already.

Planning my next find could wait. For now, me, my bottle-opener of a right hand, and alcohol.

#show and tell time #show and tell #satt #satt-prompt #satt-writing-prompt #satt-genie #tumblr suddenly gave me a prompt #so i said #why not #and here we are #so #its how i came to #write this #hope you guys liked #crab man #byee

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