A Day at the Beach
A hard shell and two mighty vice-gripping claws.
Not a smile, as much as a mandibled maw.
Eight legs scuttling on like a clattering applause
that bear their crab onwards towards the foreshore.
From a submarine life the small crab must retreat,
forgoing the undersea biome’s conceits,
whose cruel currents push him along as a treat
in powerful jets high in salinity.
For many so years, too many to count,
the victimised crab had held aqueous doubts
suspicions and troubles too much to surmount,
and needed so badly to simply get out.
For the day and the night on the cold ocean’s bed
were as dark as each other wherever he’d tread,
but predators of this crustacean instead
used sneakier senses to hunt and to shred.
The chase across pebbles and coral and sand
were just about all that the poor crab could stand,
and waving a knife-bladed claw to disband
the cluster of hunters was never too grand.
The greatest of nightmares that he'd face each day,
was the dread coil whose name he would rarely dare say,
Her teeth and her venom were legends of pain,
and any misstep could spell death inhumane.
His pleas and his cries for mercy and solace
were just as well silent for the undersea menace.
The architect seeking to feed and to punish.
The crab's one true foe: the moray Adonis.
For years beyond counting Adonis had chased,
she'd cackled and snarled in the great mortal race.
The crab close afore her, so often displaced,
with terrified scuttling and life-saving haste.
But even away from the threat of those jaws,
the crab would fall foul of the undersea laws,
the social conventions that submersion implores
the creatures marine to refuse to ignore.
The other inhabitants of the abyss
would mock our poor hero whenever he missed
the chance to engage in combat, claw-to-fist,
or to blow bubbles out of his mouth with a hiss.
They never let him join in crustacean games,
the lobsters would shun him, and laugh at his aims
to make a new life far away from the shame
of living so feral with each day the same.
But one day, ensconced in his fortress of fear,
drifting slowly towards him a book did appear.
By light of a torch was it made all too clear,
that ‘A Day at the Beach’ was a tome to revere
Wide eyes on long stalks raced their way across pages
with a joy and excitement they’d not felt in ages.
It told of the boundary of watery cages
where predation and fear weren’t a life’s only wages.
There was a whole world outside of the brine,
where bipedal creatures on sand would recline,
eating ice cream or running or laughing with wine,
and no-one need run from the moray malign.
So late that same night at a quarter to ten,
not that he had clocks on which he could depend,
our crab made a break to escape the sea bed,
with a pack in his claw and a dream in his head.
The journey was long from the harrowing deeps,
the going uneven, the rises so steep,
but slowly and surely he started to see
a hint of the light in which he would soon be.
A whole new aquatic assortment of peers,
unburdened by darkness and pressure severe,
saw a scuttling visitor creeping up near,
and surrounded their plucky new friend with a cheer.
“Welcome, welcome!” a young herring smiled and cried,
a wild excitement overtaking its eye.
“There’s plenty of seaweed and no need to cry.”
said a small octopus who was caring and kind.
“We’re a friendly bunch here with no confrontation,”
reported a quietly drifting cetacean,
“And if knowledge ye seek then we’ve much information
on the rise and collapse of the maritime nations.”
Pinchy the crab, for that was his name,
stood in silence a moment unsure what to say,
A tempting cabal did these strange greetings frame,
but ‘A Day at the Beach’ had set firmly his aim.
“Hello everyone, I’m Pinchy the crab,
I’ve struck out from home and I’m having a stab
at making a new life that isn’t as drab
as the one I had under a submarine slab.
I’ve read a grand tale of life in the air,
where crabs like myself can have no need to care
about hiding away beneath rocks, so the stare
of the much dreaded eel I must no longer bear.”
They gave praise about spirit and noble intentions,
but Pinchy's new friends had no comprehension
of the bold machinations they heard the crab mention,
and his total refusal to feel apprehension.
With courage and daring he pressed up and on,
and before long emerged in his very first dawn.
And with his first taste of the bright morning sun,
Pinchy saw the new surface world that he had won.
The land up above was broad in its way,
and he could see further than the home whence he came.
A smooth golden blanket of sand stretched away,
towards lush grassy cliff-sides with rocks craggy and grey.
The sky was much bluer than the depths of the sea,
had ever found cause or intention to be.
And so, Pinchy marched his way up the long beach,
through dry air so cold it left no breath for speech.
His stalked eyes blinked hard in dazzling light,
his claws waved and clattered in giddy delight,
when he saw to that to each and to every side,
was another compelling and foreign surprise.
"Hello, little crab" the surface folk said,
whenever young Pinchy would turn them his head
"We hope that you're watching wherever you tread,
never look back, just focus on what lies ahead"
The advice was quite strange to receive unsolicited,
but grateful to them all the same, he revisited
the notion of watching ahead, uninhibited,
by the sea that'd he'd left and the crime's it's complicit in.
'A day at the Beach' had laid bare and inviting
the virtues that life on the land could provide him,
like freely available prawns he could find in
the vast seafood sheds and the rock pools that lined them.
And marvellous cars that did all moving for you,
ice cream and sandwiches captured his heart too,
Sandcastle homes, and dunes he could run through,
a wide coastal playground with more joy than he knew.
Pinchy squinted around in the sun's shining rays,
"so this is the surface where everyone plays,
And no-one need fear the accursed morays,
Adonis is gone for the rest of my days!
Oh jubilant happenstance thrust on my life,
'A day at the Beach' has delivered from strife,
this little crab's heart in which fears were so rife,
I'll cut down any barriers with my claw's holy knife."
"A little theatrical, don't you agree?"
asked a Labrador sheltering under a tree.
"That your front paws are blades is easy to see,
but a claim that they're sacrosanct is hard to believe."
Our crab ceased his scuttling to face this critique,
from a strange hairy beast whose interest he had piqued.
"It's fair to observe that the statement was weak,
I suppose I grew tired of being so meek.
I want to be strong, to be safe, self-assured,
I was telling myself that my ills could be cured,
by my own volition, the tools that adorn
my own arms can keep my new future secured."
"A fair enough statement, and I'll surely accept,
that the limited options your rhyming begets,
can lead to a turn of phrase we might lament,
in simpler exchanges if elsewise we'd met."
The dog laughed as he spoke, with waggling tail,
and his size alone made Pinchy feel rather frail,
but the kindness behind canine eyes soon prevailed
and Pinchy saw no need to holler and wail.
For clearly this Labrador offered no threat,
it was not blood but water that left his coat wet.
His earlier playfulness left no regret,
and he rolled in the sand to get happier yet.
"Would you care to join me on my new adventure?
I'd be glad of a friend and I'm thrilled that I've met ya."
Our crustacean hero asked, always a clencher
of chances to be an acquaintance, indentured.
"You seem a stout sort, your companionship pleasant,
but I must decline to accompany at present,
for I have an owner who may well be Godsent,
and we live far away on Magnolia Crescent.
I wish you good luck though, and hope that one day,
you and I will return here to laugh to and to play.
You could throw me a stick and I would repay,
your kindness by keeping the gulls far at bay."
Disappointed but not necessarily shocked,
young Pinchy put one of his legs on a rock.
"I'll look forward to that, and I put so much stock,
in your words that I must ask if that yonder flock
Are the gulls you allude to, they're circling high,
are they no threat to you but a danger to I?"
The dog cooked his head and then he replied
"I think you mean 'me', but the answer is aye.
The gulls are a fearsome and dangerous bunch,
this beach is their home and you could be their lunch,
if you stay too exposed without much of a hunch
as to when they might dive and take you with a crunch."
A flashback of eyes, fins and teeth in the dark,
flashed into the mind of the crab then, so stark
was the warning that came that he had to remark
"then my life is unsafe and I'll cherish your bark.
I had better push on for the shade of some shelf,
for I wish to remain in possession of health.
I thank you, my friend, for this warning as well,
and I'll make my way now with much haste and much stealth."
With a wish of good luck and a small woof goodbye,
the dog watched the crab leave in very good time.
Young Pinchy's path gave a him a perilous climb,
but the fear of the gulls made performance sublime.
One side to the other he pivoted round,
one eye on the sky and an ear pricked for sounds,
that might portend imminent swooping to ground
of predators waiting for prey to be found.
From bushes to grasses he scurried and darted,
committed to finishing what he had started,
respecting the wisdom the dog had imparted,
not distracting the birds from tearing apart bread.
Beyond sandy dunes lay a curious sight,
a landscape so alien that, try as he might,
he couldn't determine between tricks of the light
and genuine articles that stood in their own right.
The sands and the grasses gave way to a stone,
unlike any that he had seen in his home.
So flat and so dark, but with lines white as bone,
that ran on for miles with the odd orange cone.
But flat was perhaps a misnomer, he thought,
as a case of the verticals it regularly caught,
and instead went straight upwards towards heaven's court,
but of reaching the angels of course it fell short.
These towering titans, these grey monoliths,
some of them stood taller than undersea cliffs,
but they all seemed so even that he couldn't resist,
to let flights of fancy lead his mind adrift.
"Could these be the homes of the oversea folk?
The ones of which 'A day at the Beach' briefly spoke?
Encasing the humans like some mighty yoke
and from which they fled to see their little boats?"
Of course, it was true, Pinchy knew it full well,
and it was immediate that he could tell,
that these hard-edged caves existed to quell,
the awful exposure and he was compelled.
"Whether these blocks were wrought here by nature or hand,
I'll have one of my own and in it I'll stand,
a true free crustacean, a line in the sand,
drawn to show that I too belong up on the land."
A bold declaration and uttered out loud,
an intention was set to puncture the shroud
of victimisation, well no more he vowed,
for in this new chapter he'd make himself proud.
VERSE 2
A life up above had challenges,
but Pinchy was certain he'd manage it.
Though he might not have had the advantages,
of growing up under its auspices
But 'A day at the Beach' had equipped him,
with knowledge which had been forbidden,
the secrets of ice cream and litter bins,
and the concept of wealth it had given him.
A home wouldn't come without currency,
but an income source he could already see,
because lining the coast were these factories,
with need of a cutter's proficiency.
So on that first day that he walked the street,
Young Pinchy took it on himself to meet,
the floor supervisor and did entreat,
him to see the fortune falling at his feet.
"You can cut through these bindings you say?
And you can start right now, today?
Well I'm not going to send you away,
I just hope you're as good as you claim!"
Pinchy loved to show what he could do,
with a flourish he proved his words true.
The unpacking process improved,
by a whole order of magnitude.
On the shop floor he heard his own name,
as it tore through the workforce like flame.
From rumour to fact went his fame,
a crab at the top his game.
With a skip in eight steps as he left,
and a manager very impressed,
financially he had been blessed,
for being the best of the best.
Alas it would not be enough,
for rent of something even rough,
but his sterling work gained him the trust,
of colleague who called himself Russ.
"You can stay on my couch if you'd like,
if you've nowhere to bed down tonight.
In the morning we'll take in the sights,
and then find you a rental by light."
Salubrious though it might not be,
the crab's night was still fairly comfy.
Russ and Pinchy ate curry for their tea,
and talked of life under the deep sea.
When morning rolled round it was rainy,
but you wouldn't catch Pinchy complaining.
He and Russ were determined in aiming,
to do something they'd find entertaining.
The singular obvious choice,
to which Russ gave an emphatic voice,
was where he and his friends played as boys;
the arcade of colours and noise.
Russ pulled on a plasticky jacket,
pulled out of a little red packet,
the rustling of which made a racket,
while crab claws excitedly clacked
"You have a removeable shell?!
I'd never be able to tell!
The colour, I think, suits you well,
but its hardness would be a hard sell."
Confusion danced on Russ' face,
which in hindsight was quite a disgrace,
for to all the crustacean race,
the statement was quite commonplace.
The realisation soon dawned
"Oh I see what you mean, now." He yawned,
implying his ignorance spawned,
from waking this close to the dawn.
"It's a jacket, a human invention,
to offer some slight intervention,
to rain that we so often mention,
and alleviate damp apprehension."
For a good long while both of them scuttled,
they sight-saw, they talked and they chuckled.
From the pier they saw mussels and cockles,
while the fish hid in their shady hollows.
Eventually, though, Russ complained
About spending so long in the rain.
And such a good friend had he made,
Pinchy said "then let's find those arcades."
A fascia of bright neon lights,
was put easily in Pinchy's sights.
It promised amusement delights,
and gaming long into the night.
The young crab in all of his years,
never had found such sounds at his ears,
as the claw machine's grinding of gears,
while it put its users in arrears.
With affinity felt never more,
he looked back and forth, claw to claw,
and despite his two blades to its four,
He knew his grip would triumph for sure.
"Say Russ, do you think that I could,
stand where this machine has always stood?
Which isn't to say that I would,
but a backup plan is always good.
My pincers give tremendous grip,
whereas these metal things seem to slip.
And cause these great treasures to drip,
instead of completing their trip."
The human gave into a laugh,
"I don't mean to make you feel daft,
but that, in itself, is the graft,
for the toys are supposed to depart."
"You're saying it's rigged, this machine?
I feel the owner should come clean.
Hunted in the sea I may have been,
But even eels say what they mean."
"It's all part of how arcades work.
The owner might not be a jerk.
The thrill of the chase is the perk,
and if you win? Then just go berserk."
As cynical as it all seemed,
Pinchy had a go at the machines.
Shooting laser light at glassy screens,
with breaks for ice cream in between.
He couldn't deny he'd had fun,
when all of his pennies were done.
He even crowned Russ champion
in the great dance machine one-on-one.
By the light of the afternoon sun
the man and the crab wandered on.
Their duty they couldn't outrun
so the factory they couldn't shun.
They stopped off for chips on the way
to keep ol' starvation at bay.
But when Russ was attempting to pay,
Pinchy's jaw dropped. "Hey, Russ, look this way!"
"The building with all those air vents
has a sign up that says it's to rent!
I'll be back when a moment I've spent,
seeing what chances it could present."
Eight legs scuttled over the road,
an excited crustacean in tow.
To peer through the glass was to know,
that Pinchy had found his new home.
"Great news, Russ!" he eagerly cried,
claws clacking away as he tried,
with futile exertion to hide,
immense excitement held inside.
"I think I've just found vacant premises
to emancipate me from the menaces
of living up here without fixed address!
I'll open the debut crab run laundrette!"
With joy and confusion in tandem
Russ looked up to see there, abandoned,
A room of rectangular phantoms
which spin, rinse and drain quite at random .
"You've been out of the sea, what, a day?
And you're already ready to say
that your first job is not here to stay,
as detergents have pulled you away?
Which isn't to say I'm not pleased,
at the sudden and quite shocking ease
with which you've found chances like these,
that you've readily chosen to seize.
But if a query you'll permit;
laundry: how did you learn about it?
To teach you of this I'll admit
I thought life underwater unfit."
"'A Day at the Beach' told me all,
from surfing to chips to beach balls.
It elaborates well on the small
stain that Timmy gets after a fall.
The seaweed leaves green on his shorts,
and we see as his mother transports
the garment away from the ports,
to a mystical room that purports
To carry the singular power,
within the span of just an hour,
to purge and completely devour
the filth that had left them so sour.
A thorough account did it make
of the way that the washers all shake,
and the powdered detergent they take,
and the spin that one must not forsake.
A similar treatment is given
to the dryer's ineffable mission.
Its actions and purpose are striven
to remedy soggy conditions."
The chips by this time were prepared,
and with thanks crab and man took their share.
They stepped out into the open air
and towards the laundrette they both stared.
Then and there Pinchy made up his mind,
that a better chance he'd never find.
Soon he had his whole plan well defined,
to have ownership, to him, assigned.
Day by day, night by night, passed the weeks,
snipping bindings with practiced techniques.
Earning funds and snatching furtive peeks,
at his future clothes-cleaning boutique.
With discipline and motivation,
he stuck fast to his savings inflation,
living humbly, eschewing temptation,
'til the day of the great celebration.
In mere moments the papers were signed,
and new ownership was defined.
Pinchy's dreams, just as he had divined,
in the laundrette had now been enshrined.
VERSE 3
The life of the entrepreneur
was something Pinchy had been sure
He'd handle with the grace and skill of any laundry connoisseur.
And though it wasn't far from true,
since profit he had scraped into,
to keep on top of daily struggles was almost more than he could do.
The council tax was simply theft
his business rates left him bereft
More often than the sunrise came he found that he had little left.
But he wouldn't give into despair,
not in the sea or anywhere,
for Pinchy hadn't come so far to leave his dreams in disrepair.
He was a dedicated crab.
His premises were transformed from drab
to somewhere any self-respecting urchin would agree was fab.
He'd scrubbed the ceilings and the floors,
washed all the windows and the doors,
fixed every crack and painted every surface only with his claws.
The people of the town took note,
they read the leaflets that he wrote,
inviting them to try the services he'd gone out to promote
A loyal set of patrons now,
he'd come to know inside and out.
Their regular be-spoiled garments he could not survive without.
No single day would ever be
without some close catastrophe,
but savvy Pinchy always found a path to craft a remedy.
A favour called in from a plumber,
a free wash here to thank another,
an offer of some charity to turn his winter into summer.
A beacon of community
that little crab had come to be,
and although proud he didn't let it turn into complacency.
For every single morning still,
he thanked his past self for the will
to leave behind the torment that still faced the lobsters and the krill
One day about year beyond
the date he'd chosen to abscond
from submarine existence and to surface of which he was fond
Pinchy had not long returned
from a cup of tea which he'd well earned
with his dear Russ, whose friendship he would never ever come to spurn.
He sat upon his office chair,
antennae eyes up in the air,
and wondered if he needed to be scheduling some drum repairs
when from the storefront came the sound
of clientele with need profound
to get their clothes wet and then subsequently dry by tumbling round
A crab who knew the benefit
of personal help couldn't sit
by idly when providing cycle guidance sat in his remit.
What if this patron needed change?
Or to know the temperature range
in which the darks and lights can be together and not rearranged?
The risk was far too much to take,
so for the unknown client's sake
he scuttled down on eight legs and made sideways progress as he spake:
"Hello there, can I be of help?"
But suddenly he gave a yelp,
as crashing on him came the sum of all the fear he'd ever felt.
A hissing, leering, lunging maw,
a set of teeth he'd seen before
a snarling hunger, feral growling, snapping of an evil jaw.
For everything his laundrette promised
it couldn't help when standing on its
tiled floor, just like before, was that dreaded lethal eel: Adonis
A chitinous clattering of little feet
rang out as he clicked and clacked his fast retreat
to use the wide drum of a dryer to cheat
the eel of its meal with its hunt indiscreet.
"Oh baleful day, oh goodness, oh my,
I hardly know what I have done that's a crime
so dire and evil to bring at this time
the tormentor here to ruin my prime."
But sitting inside his cylindrical hole,
Pinchy felt his mind come back into his control.
This wasn't the depth of the sea, and the role
of the victim he'd no longer bear to extoll.
"Now listen up here, you vile Adonis,
I've run away once but no more will I do this.
If it's violence and fear that you're wishing upon us,
then try the new me, seek my mercy, be punished!"
With both his claws forward and scything the air,
the crustacean's leap found the eel unprepared.
It held up a tote bag of loose socks, unpaired,
and slunk back towards the door saying "That's fair."
"I perfectly understand that your position
towards me is one of utmost opposition,
but please if you'll permit me my exposition,
you'll see that I'm capable of some contrition.
I mean you no harm any more my crab friend,
and the shame that I feel in myself has no end,
my previous hunting I'll never defend,
for causing such fear that I can't comprehend."
There were tears in the eyes of the might moray
that Pinchy could see from his careful survey
and tentatively the young crab did foray
into hearing out what Adonis had to say.
"When I saw that you'd left I sought out a new meal
for the appetite with which I still had to deal,
but to me, too, 'A Day at the Beach' had revealed,
the wild new world that the waters concealed.
I followed the path that you'd trod before me,
and heard that you'd made it right out of the sea.
Without pause to worry you'd set yourself free,
and it hit me just what kind of monster I'd been.
To push you away from your home and your place
with the dogged, interminable way that I'd chase
you from rock to rock, at life-or-death pace,
I could no longer bear to look at my own face.
After soul searching most of a week I decided
that I should follow the example provided.
To change my ways and let my own self be guided
by the prey over whom I'd so cruelly presided.
And now that I've found you there's no need to worry
If you want me gone, then away I will hurry.
I know that I snapped and hissed, teeth in a flurry
but it was just a reflex, for which I am sorry.
I'm trying so hard to be better I swear,
I hate that I hiss and lay all my teeth bare.
So impulsive and feral, I'm a beast, I'm aware,
but I'm hoping it's something that I can repair."
Young Pinchy's crustacean heart rapidly pounded
and Adonis' testimony had confounded.
Could the moray eel who had relentlessly hounded
really be the same one who now acted so grounded?
They stood there in silence, neither making a move,
the crab holding fast, the eel eager to prove
that she could be trusted now, she had improved.
but it seemed, to her sadness, Pinchy still disapproved.
"It's alright, I get it, I wrought this myself,
by being a persistent threat to your health.
You owe me no welcome, you deserve all wealth.
I hope you've found happiness, and I wish you well."
With maudlin acceptance and major deflation,
the eel made to slither away from her station.
Pinchy lowered his claws and, with hesitation,
decided to let go of his reservation.
"I won't pretend that I was happy to see you,
and your lunging at me was quite horrid to go through,
but I can have faith that your tale is all true,
so tell me, Adonis, what is it you now do?"
A humble and grateful smile spread on her face,
as the crab managed to overlook her disgrace.
and grateful for every last scrap of his grace,
the chance for amendment she leapt to embrace.
"All the hunting and tormenting I have forsaken.
The stenographer's trade is the one I have taken.
It's hard but it's honest, a new life I'm making.
Do you own this place now? Or am I mistaken?"
"I am the proprietor, you are correct,
and you're welcome to take yourself round and inspect
the machines to find one that you'd like to select
to get your work clothes clean. They all work. I've checked."
"Thank you." said Adonis. "For letting me stay
and for forgiveness that I hope I can repay.
I don't know how now, but maybe some day
I will find how to help you out in some small way."
Pinchy nodded and watched as she chose a machine
with a very large drum and a rapid top speed.
Gently biting the shirts and the skirts she could feed,
them into the drum for the wash to proceed.
The change that he saw in the moray was calming.
Her new banal actions were rather disarming.
His heart rate slowed down, for she wasn't harming
him or anyone. She was perfectly charming.
"Stenography? A good vocation.
Recording justice for the nation.
But doesn't the main application
Need fingers for its operation?"
"It's tricky for someone like me,
this manual dexterity,
but I still do alright, you see,
so no-one complains about me."
Pinchy and Adonis talked
about the halls through which she 'walked',
the coffee from which she had balked,
and then about the sea they squawked.
Catharsis by the fabric softener,
was something Pinchy wished for oftener.
That moment was the greatest offer
of many from A Day at the Beach's author.
Not a smile, as much as a mandibled maw.
Eight legs scuttling on like a clattering applause
that bear their crab onwards towards the foreshore.
From a submarine life the small crab must retreat,
forgoing the undersea biome’s conceits,
whose cruel currents push him along as a treat
in powerful jets high in salinity.
For many so years, too many to count,
the victimised crab had held aqueous doubts
suspicions and troubles too much to surmount,
and needed so badly to simply get out.
For the day and the night on the cold ocean’s bed
were as dark as each other wherever he’d tread,
but predators of this crustacean instead
used sneakier senses to hunt and to shred.
The chase across pebbles and coral and sand
were just about all that the poor crab could stand,
and waving a knife-bladed claw to disband
the cluster of hunters was never too grand.
The greatest of nightmares that he'd face each day,
was the dread coil whose name he would rarely dare say,
Her teeth and her venom were legends of pain,
and any misstep could spell death inhumane.
His pleas and his cries for mercy and solace
were just as well silent for the undersea menace.
The architect seeking to feed and to punish.
The crab's one true foe: the moray Adonis.
For years beyond counting Adonis had chased,
she'd cackled and snarled in the great mortal race.
The crab close afore her, so often displaced,
with terrified scuttling and life-saving haste.
But even away from the threat of those jaws,
the crab would fall foul of the undersea laws,
the social conventions that submersion implores
the creatures marine to refuse to ignore.
The other inhabitants of the abyss
would mock our poor hero whenever he missed
the chance to engage in combat, claw-to-fist,
or to blow bubbles out of his mouth with a hiss.
They never let him join in crustacean games,
the lobsters would shun him, and laugh at his aims
to make a new life far away from the shame
of living so feral with each day the same.
But one day, ensconced in his fortress of fear,
drifting slowly towards him a book did appear.
By light of a torch was it made all too clear,
that ‘A Day at the Beach’ was a tome to revere
Wide eyes on long stalks raced their way across pages
with a joy and excitement they’d not felt in ages.
It told of the boundary of watery cages
where predation and fear weren’t a life’s only wages.
There was a whole world outside of the brine,
where bipedal creatures on sand would recline,
eating ice cream or running or laughing with wine,
and no-one need run from the moray malign.
So late that same night at a quarter to ten,
not that he had clocks on which he could depend,
our crab made a break to escape the sea bed,
with a pack in his claw and a dream in his head.
The journey was long from the harrowing deeps,
the going uneven, the rises so steep,
but slowly and surely he started to see
a hint of the light in which he would soon be.
A whole new aquatic assortment of peers,
unburdened by darkness and pressure severe,
saw a scuttling visitor creeping up near,
and surrounded their plucky new friend with a cheer.
“Welcome, welcome!” a young herring smiled and cried,
a wild excitement overtaking its eye.
“There’s plenty of seaweed and no need to cry.”
said a small octopus who was caring and kind.
“We’re a friendly bunch here with no confrontation,”
reported a quietly drifting cetacean,
“And if knowledge ye seek then we’ve much information
on the rise and collapse of the maritime nations.”
Pinchy the crab, for that was his name,
stood in silence a moment unsure what to say,
A tempting cabal did these strange greetings frame,
but ‘A Day at the Beach’ had set firmly his aim.
“Hello everyone, I’m Pinchy the crab,
I’ve struck out from home and I’m having a stab
at making a new life that isn’t as drab
as the one I had under a submarine slab.
I’ve read a grand tale of life in the air,
where crabs like myself can have no need to care
about hiding away beneath rocks, so the stare
of the much dreaded eel I must no longer bear.”
They gave praise about spirit and noble intentions,
but Pinchy's new friends had no comprehension
of the bold machinations they heard the crab mention,
and his total refusal to feel apprehension.
With courage and daring he pressed up and on,
and before long emerged in his very first dawn.
And with his first taste of the bright morning sun,
Pinchy saw the new surface world that he had won.
The land up above was broad in its way,
and he could see further than the home whence he came.
A smooth golden blanket of sand stretched away,
towards lush grassy cliff-sides with rocks craggy and grey.
The sky was much bluer than the depths of the sea,
had ever found cause or intention to be.
And so, Pinchy marched his way up the long beach,
through dry air so cold it left no breath for speech.
His stalked eyes blinked hard in dazzling light,
his claws waved and clattered in giddy delight,
when he saw to that to each and to every side,
was another compelling and foreign surprise.
"Hello, little crab" the surface folk said,
whenever young Pinchy would turn them his head
"We hope that you're watching wherever you tread,
never look back, just focus on what lies ahead"
The advice was quite strange to receive unsolicited,
but grateful to them all the same, he revisited
the notion of watching ahead, uninhibited,
by the sea that'd he'd left and the crime's it's complicit in.
'A day at the Beach' had laid bare and inviting
the virtues that life on the land could provide him,
like freely available prawns he could find in
the vast seafood sheds and the rock pools that lined them.
And marvellous cars that did all moving for you,
ice cream and sandwiches captured his heart too,
Sandcastle homes, and dunes he could run through,
a wide coastal playground with more joy than he knew.
Pinchy squinted around in the sun's shining rays,
"so this is the surface where everyone plays,
And no-one need fear the accursed morays,
Adonis is gone for the rest of my days!
Oh jubilant happenstance thrust on my life,
'A day at the Beach' has delivered from strife,
this little crab's heart in which fears were so rife,
I'll cut down any barriers with my claw's holy knife."
"A little theatrical, don't you agree?"
asked a Labrador sheltering under a tree.
"That your front paws are blades is easy to see,
but a claim that they're sacrosanct is hard to believe."
Our crab ceased his scuttling to face this critique,
from a strange hairy beast whose interest he had piqued.
"It's fair to observe that the statement was weak,
I suppose I grew tired of being so meek.
I want to be strong, to be safe, self-assured,
I was telling myself that my ills could be cured,
by my own volition, the tools that adorn
my own arms can keep my new future secured."
"A fair enough statement, and I'll surely accept,
that the limited options your rhyming begets,
can lead to a turn of phrase we might lament,
in simpler exchanges if elsewise we'd met."
The dog laughed as he spoke, with waggling tail,
and his size alone made Pinchy feel rather frail,
but the kindness behind canine eyes soon prevailed
and Pinchy saw no need to holler and wail.
For clearly this Labrador offered no threat,
it was not blood but water that left his coat wet.
His earlier playfulness left no regret,
and he rolled in the sand to get happier yet.
"Would you care to join me on my new adventure?
I'd be glad of a friend and I'm thrilled that I've met ya."
Our crustacean hero asked, always a clencher
of chances to be an acquaintance, indentured.
"You seem a stout sort, your companionship pleasant,
but I must decline to accompany at present,
for I have an owner who may well be Godsent,
and we live far away on Magnolia Crescent.
I wish you good luck though, and hope that one day,
you and I will return here to laugh to and to play.
You could throw me a stick and I would repay,
your kindness by keeping the gulls far at bay."
Disappointed but not necessarily shocked,
young Pinchy put one of his legs on a rock.
"I'll look forward to that, and I put so much stock,
in your words that I must ask if that yonder flock
Are the gulls you allude to, they're circling high,
are they no threat to you but a danger to I?"
The dog cooked his head and then he replied
"I think you mean 'me', but the answer is aye.
The gulls are a fearsome and dangerous bunch,
this beach is their home and you could be their lunch,
if you stay too exposed without much of a hunch
as to when they might dive and take you with a crunch."
A flashback of eyes, fins and teeth in the dark,
flashed into the mind of the crab then, so stark
was the warning that came that he had to remark
"then my life is unsafe and I'll cherish your bark.
I had better push on for the shade of some shelf,
for I wish to remain in possession of health.
I thank you, my friend, for this warning as well,
and I'll make my way now with much haste and much stealth."
With a wish of good luck and a small woof goodbye,
the dog watched the crab leave in very good time.
Young Pinchy's path gave a him a perilous climb,
but the fear of the gulls made performance sublime.
One side to the other he pivoted round,
one eye on the sky and an ear pricked for sounds,
that might portend imminent swooping to ground
of predators waiting for prey to be found.
From bushes to grasses he scurried and darted,
committed to finishing what he had started,
respecting the wisdom the dog had imparted,
not distracting the birds from tearing apart bread.
Beyond sandy dunes lay a curious sight,
a landscape so alien that, try as he might,
he couldn't determine between tricks of the light
and genuine articles that stood in their own right.
The sands and the grasses gave way to a stone,
unlike any that he had seen in his home.
So flat and so dark, but with lines white as bone,
that ran on for miles with the odd orange cone.
But flat was perhaps a misnomer, he thought,
as a case of the verticals it regularly caught,
and instead went straight upwards towards heaven's court,
but of reaching the angels of course it fell short.
These towering titans, these grey monoliths,
some of them stood taller than undersea cliffs,
but they all seemed so even that he couldn't resist,
to let flights of fancy lead his mind adrift.
"Could these be the homes of the oversea folk?
The ones of which 'A day at the Beach' briefly spoke?
Encasing the humans like some mighty yoke
and from which they fled to see their little boats?"
Of course, it was true, Pinchy knew it full well,
and it was immediate that he could tell,
that these hard-edged caves existed to quell,
the awful exposure and he was compelled.
"Whether these blocks were wrought here by nature or hand,
I'll have one of my own and in it I'll stand,
a true free crustacean, a line in the sand,
drawn to show that I too belong up on the land."
A bold declaration and uttered out loud,
an intention was set to puncture the shroud
of victimisation, well no more he vowed,
for in this new chapter he'd make himself proud.
VERSE 2
A life up above had challenges,
but Pinchy was certain he'd manage it.
Though he might not have had the advantages,
of growing up under its auspices
But 'A day at the Beach' had equipped him,
with knowledge which had been forbidden,
the secrets of ice cream and litter bins,
and the concept of wealth it had given him.
A home wouldn't come without currency,
but an income source he could already see,
because lining the coast were these factories,
with need of a cutter's proficiency.
So on that first day that he walked the street,
Young Pinchy took it on himself to meet,
the floor supervisor and did entreat,
him to see the fortune falling at his feet.
"You can cut through these bindings you say?
And you can start right now, today?
Well I'm not going to send you away,
I just hope you're as good as you claim!"
Pinchy loved to show what he could do,
with a flourish he proved his words true.
The unpacking process improved,
by a whole order of magnitude.
On the shop floor he heard his own name,
as it tore through the workforce like flame.
From rumour to fact went his fame,
a crab at the top his game.
With a skip in eight steps as he left,
and a manager very impressed,
financially he had been blessed,
for being the best of the best.
Alas it would not be enough,
for rent of something even rough,
but his sterling work gained him the trust,
of colleague who called himself Russ.
"You can stay on my couch if you'd like,
if you've nowhere to bed down tonight.
In the morning we'll take in the sights,
and then find you a rental by light."
Salubrious though it might not be,
the crab's night was still fairly comfy.
Russ and Pinchy ate curry for their tea,
and talked of life under the deep sea.
When morning rolled round it was rainy,
but you wouldn't catch Pinchy complaining.
He and Russ were determined in aiming,
to do something they'd find entertaining.
The singular obvious choice,
to which Russ gave an emphatic voice,
was where he and his friends played as boys;
the arcade of colours and noise.
Russ pulled on a plasticky jacket,
pulled out of a little red packet,
the rustling of which made a racket,
while crab claws excitedly clacked
"You have a removeable shell?!
I'd never be able to tell!
The colour, I think, suits you well,
but its hardness would be a hard sell."
Confusion danced on Russ' face,
which in hindsight was quite a disgrace,
for to all the crustacean race,
the statement was quite commonplace.
The realisation soon dawned
"Oh I see what you mean, now." He yawned,
implying his ignorance spawned,
from waking this close to the dawn.
"It's a jacket, a human invention,
to offer some slight intervention,
to rain that we so often mention,
and alleviate damp apprehension."
For a good long while both of them scuttled,
they sight-saw, they talked and they chuckled.
From the pier they saw mussels and cockles,
while the fish hid in their shady hollows.
Eventually, though, Russ complained
About spending so long in the rain.
And such a good friend had he made,
Pinchy said "then let's find those arcades."
A fascia of bright neon lights,
was put easily in Pinchy's sights.
It promised amusement delights,
and gaming long into the night.
The young crab in all of his years,
never had found such sounds at his ears,
as the claw machine's grinding of gears,
while it put its users in arrears.
With affinity felt never more,
he looked back and forth, claw to claw,
and despite his two blades to its four,
He knew his grip would triumph for sure.
"Say Russ, do you think that I could,
stand where this machine has always stood?
Which isn't to say that I would,
but a backup plan is always good.
My pincers give tremendous grip,
whereas these metal things seem to slip.
And cause these great treasures to drip,
instead of completing their trip."
The human gave into a laugh,
"I don't mean to make you feel daft,
but that, in itself, is the graft,
for the toys are supposed to depart."
"You're saying it's rigged, this machine?
I feel the owner should come clean.
Hunted in the sea I may have been,
But even eels say what they mean."
"It's all part of how arcades work.
The owner might not be a jerk.
The thrill of the chase is the perk,
and if you win? Then just go berserk."
As cynical as it all seemed,
Pinchy had a go at the machines.
Shooting laser light at glassy screens,
with breaks for ice cream in between.
He couldn't deny he'd had fun,
when all of his pennies were done.
He even crowned Russ champion
in the great dance machine one-on-one.
By the light of the afternoon sun
the man and the crab wandered on.
Their duty they couldn't outrun
so the factory they couldn't shun.
They stopped off for chips on the way
to keep ol' starvation at bay.
But when Russ was attempting to pay,
Pinchy's jaw dropped. "Hey, Russ, look this way!"
"The building with all those air vents
has a sign up that says it's to rent!
I'll be back when a moment I've spent,
seeing what chances it could present."
Eight legs scuttled over the road,
an excited crustacean in tow.
To peer through the glass was to know,
that Pinchy had found his new home.
"Great news, Russ!" he eagerly cried,
claws clacking away as he tried,
with futile exertion to hide,
immense excitement held inside.
"I think I've just found vacant premises
to emancipate me from the menaces
of living up here without fixed address!
I'll open the debut crab run laundrette!"
With joy and confusion in tandem
Russ looked up to see there, abandoned,
A room of rectangular phantoms
which spin, rinse and drain quite at random .
"You've been out of the sea, what, a day?
And you're already ready to say
that your first job is not here to stay,
as detergents have pulled you away?
Which isn't to say I'm not pleased,
at the sudden and quite shocking ease
with which you've found chances like these,
that you've readily chosen to seize.
But if a query you'll permit;
laundry: how did you learn about it?
To teach you of this I'll admit
I thought life underwater unfit."
"'A Day at the Beach' told me all,
from surfing to chips to beach balls.
It elaborates well on the small
stain that Timmy gets after a fall.
The seaweed leaves green on his shorts,
and we see as his mother transports
the garment away from the ports,
to a mystical room that purports
To carry the singular power,
within the span of just an hour,
to purge and completely devour
the filth that had left them so sour.
A thorough account did it make
of the way that the washers all shake,
and the powdered detergent they take,
and the spin that one must not forsake.
A similar treatment is given
to the dryer's ineffable mission.
Its actions and purpose are striven
to remedy soggy conditions."
The chips by this time were prepared,
and with thanks crab and man took their share.
They stepped out into the open air
and towards the laundrette they both stared.
Then and there Pinchy made up his mind,
that a better chance he'd never find.
Soon he had his whole plan well defined,
to have ownership, to him, assigned.
Day by day, night by night, passed the weeks,
snipping bindings with practiced techniques.
Earning funds and snatching furtive peeks,
at his future clothes-cleaning boutique.
With discipline and motivation,
he stuck fast to his savings inflation,
living humbly, eschewing temptation,
'til the day of the great celebration.
In mere moments the papers were signed,
and new ownership was defined.
Pinchy's dreams, just as he had divined,
in the laundrette had now been enshrined.
VERSE 3
The life of the entrepreneur
was something Pinchy had been sure
He'd handle with the grace and skill of any laundry connoisseur.
And though it wasn't far from true,
since profit he had scraped into,
to keep on top of daily struggles was almost more than he could do.
The council tax was simply theft
his business rates left him bereft
More often than the sunrise came he found that he had little left.
But he wouldn't give into despair,
not in the sea or anywhere,
for Pinchy hadn't come so far to leave his dreams in disrepair.
He was a dedicated crab.
His premises were transformed from drab
to somewhere any self-respecting urchin would agree was fab.
He'd scrubbed the ceilings and the floors,
washed all the windows and the doors,
fixed every crack and painted every surface only with his claws.
The people of the town took note,
they read the leaflets that he wrote,
inviting them to try the services he'd gone out to promote
A loyal set of patrons now,
he'd come to know inside and out.
Their regular be-spoiled garments he could not survive without.
No single day would ever be
without some close catastrophe,
but savvy Pinchy always found a path to craft a remedy.
A favour called in from a plumber,
a free wash here to thank another,
an offer of some charity to turn his winter into summer.
A beacon of community
that little crab had come to be,
and although proud he didn't let it turn into complacency.
For every single morning still,
he thanked his past self for the will
to leave behind the torment that still faced the lobsters and the krill
One day about year beyond
the date he'd chosen to abscond
from submarine existence and to surface of which he was fond
Pinchy had not long returned
from a cup of tea which he'd well earned
with his dear Russ, whose friendship he would never ever come to spurn.
He sat upon his office chair,
antennae eyes up in the air,
and wondered if he needed to be scheduling some drum repairs
when from the storefront came the sound
of clientele with need profound
to get their clothes wet and then subsequently dry by tumbling round
A crab who knew the benefit
of personal help couldn't sit
by idly when providing cycle guidance sat in his remit.
What if this patron needed change?
Or to know the temperature range
in which the darks and lights can be together and not rearranged?
The risk was far too much to take,
so for the unknown client's sake
he scuttled down on eight legs and made sideways progress as he spake:
"Hello there, can I be of help?"
But suddenly he gave a yelp,
as crashing on him came the sum of all the fear he'd ever felt.
A hissing, leering, lunging maw,
a set of teeth he'd seen before
a snarling hunger, feral growling, snapping of an evil jaw.
For everything his laundrette promised
it couldn't help when standing on its
tiled floor, just like before, was that dreaded lethal eel: Adonis
A chitinous clattering of little feet
rang out as he clicked and clacked his fast retreat
to use the wide drum of a dryer to cheat
the eel of its meal with its hunt indiscreet.
"Oh baleful day, oh goodness, oh my,
I hardly know what I have done that's a crime
so dire and evil to bring at this time
the tormentor here to ruin my prime."
But sitting inside his cylindrical hole,
Pinchy felt his mind come back into his control.
This wasn't the depth of the sea, and the role
of the victim he'd no longer bear to extoll.
"Now listen up here, you vile Adonis,
I've run away once but no more will I do this.
If it's violence and fear that you're wishing upon us,
then try the new me, seek my mercy, be punished!"
With both his claws forward and scything the air,
the crustacean's leap found the eel unprepared.
It held up a tote bag of loose socks, unpaired,
and slunk back towards the door saying "That's fair."
"I perfectly understand that your position
towards me is one of utmost opposition,
but please if you'll permit me my exposition,
you'll see that I'm capable of some contrition.
I mean you no harm any more my crab friend,
and the shame that I feel in myself has no end,
my previous hunting I'll never defend,
for causing such fear that I can't comprehend."
There were tears in the eyes of the might moray
that Pinchy could see from his careful survey
and tentatively the young crab did foray
into hearing out what Adonis had to say.
"When I saw that you'd left I sought out a new meal
for the appetite with which I still had to deal,
but to me, too, 'A Day at the Beach' had revealed,
the wild new world that the waters concealed.
I followed the path that you'd trod before me,
and heard that you'd made it right out of the sea.
Without pause to worry you'd set yourself free,
and it hit me just what kind of monster I'd been.
To push you away from your home and your place
with the dogged, interminable way that I'd chase
you from rock to rock, at life-or-death pace,
I could no longer bear to look at my own face.
After soul searching most of a week I decided
that I should follow the example provided.
To change my ways and let my own self be guided
by the prey over whom I'd so cruelly presided.
And now that I've found you there's no need to worry
If you want me gone, then away I will hurry.
I know that I snapped and hissed, teeth in a flurry
but it was just a reflex, for which I am sorry.
I'm trying so hard to be better I swear,
I hate that I hiss and lay all my teeth bare.
So impulsive and feral, I'm a beast, I'm aware,
but I'm hoping it's something that I can repair."
Young Pinchy's crustacean heart rapidly pounded
and Adonis' testimony had confounded.
Could the moray eel who had relentlessly hounded
really be the same one who now acted so grounded?
They stood there in silence, neither making a move,
the crab holding fast, the eel eager to prove
that she could be trusted now, she had improved.
but it seemed, to her sadness, Pinchy still disapproved.
"It's alright, I get it, I wrought this myself,
by being a persistent threat to your health.
You owe me no welcome, you deserve all wealth.
I hope you've found happiness, and I wish you well."
With maudlin acceptance and major deflation,
the eel made to slither away from her station.
Pinchy lowered his claws and, with hesitation,
decided to let go of his reservation.
"I won't pretend that I was happy to see you,
and your lunging at me was quite horrid to go through,
but I can have faith that your tale is all true,
so tell me, Adonis, what is it you now do?"
A humble and grateful smile spread on her face,
as the crab managed to overlook her disgrace.
and grateful for every last scrap of his grace,
the chance for amendment she leapt to embrace.
"All the hunting and tormenting I have forsaken.
The stenographer's trade is the one I have taken.
It's hard but it's honest, a new life I'm making.
Do you own this place now? Or am I mistaken?"
"I am the proprietor, you are correct,
and you're welcome to take yourself round and inspect
the machines to find one that you'd like to select
to get your work clothes clean. They all work. I've checked."
"Thank you." said Adonis. "For letting me stay
and for forgiveness that I hope I can repay.
I don't know how now, but maybe some day
I will find how to help you out in some small way."
Pinchy nodded and watched as she chose a machine
with a very large drum and a rapid top speed.
Gently biting the shirts and the skirts she could feed,
them into the drum for the wash to proceed.
The change that he saw in the moray was calming.
Her new banal actions were rather disarming.
His heart rate slowed down, for she wasn't harming
him or anyone. She was perfectly charming.
"Stenography? A good vocation.
Recording justice for the nation.
But doesn't the main application
Need fingers for its operation?"
"It's tricky for someone like me,
this manual dexterity,
but I still do alright, you see,
so no-one complains about me."
Pinchy and Adonis talked
about the halls through which she 'walked',
the coffee from which she had balked,
and then about the sea they squawked.
Catharsis by the fabric softener,
was something Pinchy wished for oftener.
That moment was the greatest offer
of many from A Day at the Beach's author.