Feeling Crabby [FICTION]

Our first vacation in ten years! I finally talked my husband into taking me to the beach. He picked a resort known for its private beach and all inclusive meals. Of course, he only managed to find one day off, so we have two days to soak up some sun, dip our feet in salt water, and lounge on the sand. 

We arrived just in time for dinner on Friday. After a filling meal selected from the variety on the buffet, we went back to our private cabin to snuggle and promptly fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I woke up the next morning with a need to step into some waves, but my husband talked me into a light breakfast first. I tried to make up for the previous evening’s debauchery by eating a bowl of oatmeal and a pear. My husband loaded up on bacon and eggs and even had Belgian waffles for breakfast dessert. Needless to say, he refused to cooperate when I asked him to accompany me to the private beach. I matched his relaxed pace as we returned to our room.

He plopped down in front of the television and grumbled to himself as he interpreted the card detailing the cable service. I disappeared into the bathroom and changed into the suit I purchased just for this trip. We might be a long way from France, but when I saw an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini, I couldn’t resist buying it.

Luckily for me, the moment my husband saw it, he couldn’t resist joining me at the beach. Of course, even my magical swimwear couldn’t make his stomach feel any less like a lead ball had taken up residence, so I lost him somewhere in the hallways. As I reached the beach, I stared at the sparkling golden sand in wonder. The wonder began to fade as the silence of my surroundings suddenly sank into my mind.

I looked up and down the beach. I saw chairs, blankets, and towels set up for many sunbathers but no other humans in sight. Instead, my eyes finally adjusted to the gleaming sand enough to realize much of the sand was actually golden crabs skittering sideways across the sand. As waves crashed on the shore, I realized that they populated the surf as well.

I stared at them, wondering where they had come from and where the other beach goers had gone. I heard a familiar whoop. I turned to see my husband running toward the surf without a stitch of clothing on.

“Roderick!” I exclaimed. 

Instead of responding, he continued running toward the ocean. As he reached the waterline, extra arms formed below and above his. The ones above turned into pinchers that snapped at the air as he shrunk down to be lost among the other golden crabs upon the shore. I rushed toward him, but couldn’t distinguish one crab from another. None of them seemed to like me. As dozens of pinchers turned toward me, snapping at the flesh of my ankles, I turned back toward the resort. I half expected to be hampered by a transformation of my own, but my legs carried me back to the concierge in record time.

He smiled pleasantly, “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“My husband…” I gasped, “turned into a crab.”

“Oh. Did he eat the special crab waffles this morning?”

“Maybe?”

“Then he will be done with his transformative experience around noon and ready for lunch.”

“What?” I blinked at him, as if using Morse code to beg for a better answer.

“Just relax, ma’am. We have a few waffles left or you could make a visit to the spa.” He offered helpfully.

“I don’t know.” I turned back to the door.

“The spa treatments are free and your husband is completely safe.” He snapped his fingers and a bellhop came over to us. “The young lady needs a massage and some relaxing aromatherapy. Her husband opted for the crab waffles at breakfast.”

The bellhop nodded and gently took my arm. “Come with me. Stephanie is our best massage therapist and she just happens to be free.”

I followed him down the corridor to the spa, where a dark-haired woman took my hand and guided me to a room. After much debate, she convinced me that the massage would go better if I at least stripped down to my undergarments. She turned away to add something to a diffuser as I prepared myself and slipped under a large towel on the massage table.

Thirty minutes later, I agreed with the bellhop about Stephanie’s magic hands that I needed to make time for another massage during our stay. Of course, my completely relaxed muscles began to tense up again as I exited the spa and headed back toward my room. I didn’t think to check the time until I noticed the clock above the bed. 

“Almost noon.” I breathed a hopeful sigh and turned back around.

The concierge smiled and gave me a thumbs up as I hurried past him. Soon my footsteps brought me back to the beach, where my husband lazed happily in the sun on the chair I had dropped earlier. I raced across the sand to fall down next to him. 

“Roderick, I’m so glad you are yourself again.”

“And I am glad you came back.”

“Oh, how sweet.”

“Sweet and selfish.” When I looked at him quizzically, he explained with downcast eyes. “This towel doesn’t quite cover everything.”

“Oh?” I remembered watching his naked dash to the beach before he morphed into a crab.

He took my hand and drew me to his right side as he stood up, clutching the ends of the towel to keep them as close together as possible. “I’m glad you really intended to swim this morning or this would be even more embarrassing.”

“Good thing you weren’t the only one who got crabby today.” I offered as we fell into line with other guests with averted eye and makeshift modesty.

“Did you know they were magical waffles?” I leaned in to whisper as I kept pace.

“I didn’t think it meant they would transform me. I just thought it was a reference to how delicious they were.”

“And were they delicious?”

“So delicious.”

“So you are eating them again tomorrow?”

“I hope so. Will you join me?”

“Why not? I better pack us a bag to take to breakfast.”

He winked at me. “Good plan.”

~~~

Beware the magic waffles, my friends. And if you must eat them, don’t partake alone. Sadly, I am crabby without the help of magical waffles this morning. Summer is stressful for the mommas. Wish us well. Pray for us. And be kind….