The Panama Crab Story - March 17th, 2020
It t'was a Thursday at midnight under a gypsy moon. The air was hot, thick, and stunk of steamed crabs—crabs the size of a banker's thick head.
I tore a claw off and sucked the slimy crab meat into my mouth. Huge hunks of crab meat stuck to my face, like a baby monkey sucking on its mother's engorged monkey tit.
"Hell if this crab meat isn't as tasty as monkey tit," I giggled.
And that giggle soon rumbled into a huge guffaw, and then hysterical laughter, as giant chunks of crab meat flew from my mouth and onto my fat belly. And then, silence—the kind of silence that could drive a man to suicide.
I picked up my revolver and pointed it to my head. "Goodbye, you fat stupid crab-eater," I mumbled.
Suddenly, I turned and shot the shadowy figure that was sneaking up on me. My bullet found its way into his large ugly mouth.
"You should eat too, amigo, but not crab. Your dinner will be a bullet—a bullet from my gun."
I walked over to his lifeless body, wiped the prints off of my gun with moist juicy crab meat, and stuck the gun into his left hand. The local coppers will think it's suicide. And then, a fantastic idea: I pulled his zipper down and wrapped his right hand around his stubby pecker. Suicide, and masturbation—two sins against Jesus... I started to laugh my ass off thinking of his family reading the police report.
I finished the rest of the crabs under the gypsy moon.
"Panama," I muttered. "Panama," spitting crab meat at the moon.
What the fuck am I doing in Panama?
Well, that's a long story, my friend. A long tale. A tale of murder, double-crossers, and even animal rape—and not vaginal rape, anal rape. Yet another sin against Jesus. Yeah, it's a long story, a real page-turner. Trust me, once you start reading this book, the only way you'll stop is if you drop dead. You'll even find out who the guy is that I just shot in the mouth, and don't try to guess because it's someone different than you will think it is.
So let's get this novel started, but first I'm gonna eat another crab. A crab under the angry, bloody, gypsy moon.