The Yabbee Incident
Something interesting enough to post about happened to me this morning as I was walking to work. I'd been awake for barely half an hour and was predictably late and walking quickly and smoking simultaneously, when I saw a small yabbee walking along the footpath besides me. I immediately stopped, time be damned, for this is not an everyday occurence. The yabbee saw that I had stopped and raised it's claws at me in what I assumed was meant to be a menacing pose, and we looked at each for about a minute. During this time I thought to myself, you've really done it now, you've moved from eccentricity to full-blown psychosis, and pondered other existential matters concerning this incident. I looked up and saw an elderly lady I'd just passed at a bus-stop staring at me with a worried look on her face. Then I thought, if I can pick it up and hold it, then it's real, and my sanity no longer needs to be questioned. So I did, and it tried to grab hold of my fingers valiantly in vain, and I placed it back on the ground, and felt kinda sorry for the small creature as it would surely die a slow hideous death when the sun eventually came from behind the clouds and beamed it's rays of doom. During the remainder of my walk I reminisced about my childhood, when my sister and I would catch yabbee's with our cousins and hypnotize them by stroking their belly; unfortunately our knowledge of inducing trances didn't extend to actually breaking them, so I guess those yabbee's ended up dying in that catatonic state. I told my colleagues everything I've written upon arriving at work, and they all laughed.