Claws of Doom Threaten Maine
I’m not one to panic. I can remain calm when there’s chaos all around me. For instance, in the Old Port on Saturday night. I just sip my beer and occasionally employ my Taser whenever some drunken frat boy gets in my face.
I make a point of reminding you of my generally calm demeanor so that you’ll be able to accept the following news in the proper context. I’m not some Cassandra (bad name for a guy, anyway) or Chicken Little (ditto). I’m a sane, responsible adult with a reasonable capacity to handle unsettling information in a steady, reliable manner.
In that light, I’m obliged to inform you:
WE ARE ALL ABOUT TO DIE IN THE MOST HORRIBLE MANNER IMAGINABLE!!!!
I’ll be filing the rest of this piece from my secure underground bunker at an undisclosed location in the mountains of western Maine, because …
WE’RE DOOMED, I TELL YOU, DOOMED!!!!
OK, deep breath. Slow down that heart rate. Get a grip. And start at the beginning.
On Feb. 17, Robert Malone, a shrimp fisherman from Cushing, pulled up a lobster in his nets in waters off the coast of Rockland. The crustacean weighed twenty-seven pounds and measured forty inches. It’s stomach contained the remains of a Prius. Malone took the beast to the Maine State Aquarium in Boothbay Harbor, where it was confined in a tank made of Gorilla Glass surrounded by concertina wire and guards armed with tactical nuclear weapons.
Well, that’s what I would have thought the aquarium would do with it, but it turns out that’s not the case. Instead …
IT’S GOING TO BE SET FREE TO KILL AGAIN!!!!
That’s right, the Giant Lobster from the Depths of Hell is scheduled to be released because …
THE STATE AQUARIUM IS RUN BY MAD SCIENTISTS INTENT ON TAKING OVER THE WORLD WITH THE AID OF MUTANT LOBSTERS!!!!
Or there could be some other reason. I didn’t take time to find out. I just headed for high ground, particularly after learning that this Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade-size lobster wasn’t even close to the biggest one ever caught in waters not far from the Maine coast. According to news reports, a forty-pounder was taken off Nova Scotia. It had pieces of an old Soviet submarine still stuck in its pinchers. If it hooks up with the Maine lobster and they mate (no information on the sex of either creature has been released by authorities, probably as part of their plan to deceive the public into thinking everything is just fine) …
THEY WILL HAVE BABIES THE SIZE OF CONVENIENCE STORES THAT WILL BE CAPABLE OF RISING UP AND SMASHING HUMANITY – OR, AT LEAST, THE OLD ORCHARD BEACH PIER!!!!
Ha, I can hear you saying (I have your house bugged), ha, ha, ha. You probably think because you don’t live near the coast, there’s no danger of you being crushed by enormous lobsters intent on revenge for all those centuries of having their relatives steamed to death in pots and then subjected to the indignity of their corpses being drenched in melted butter.
Guess again, inlander.
According to experts (who, like me, are not easily panicked), Portland will soon face rising seas, bigger storm surges and the distinct possibility that the only bar in town that will still be above mean high tide at the turn of the next century will be the Top of the East.
Not that the Top isn’t a fine place for cocktails, but with waves lapping at its windows, it doesn’t seem like the most secure location for avoiding giant lobster attacks. I’m not saying I won’t be going there, once the rest of the city is underwater. After all, I’ve risked death to have a few beers before (some long-ago nights at Ralph’s Tavern and Eddie’s Shamrock come to mind), but those were just drunken sailors. They weren’t leftovers from a Jules Verne movie.
But enough about me and my fears of being turned into chum. There’s other important news to cover this week. For instance, Portland has been named the top travel destination of the year by the AARP, which is an organization that helps senior citizens escape lobster attacks.
AARP describes Portland as having some modern buildings, some old buildings, an art museum and then this:
“Lobstermen still commandeer wooden fishing boats, and the air rings with the music of ship bells and foghorns.”
From this, we can deduce that the AARP takes the threat of oversized lobsters too lightly. Also, they don’t know what “commandeer” means.
Nevertheless, the mention will undoubtedly draw thousands of wrinklies to Portland this tourist season. Which is good news if you’re not planning to be on the roads. Because a new study says Maine has a higher percentage of auto accidents involving senior citizens than all but three other states.
Wait! This could be the solution we’ve been seeking. When the lobsters attack, we’ll just unleash the grandpas and grammas by giving them back the keys we took away when they backed their Chevy Suburban into the Maine State Aquarium, thereby allowing all manner of deviant sea life to escape. That same ineptness behind the wheel can be turned to society’s advantage, when they ram into Hell Lobster and his devilish pals (“we were in a hurry because Gram had to use the potty, and that lobster didn’t have his blinkers on, and his antennas obstructed my vision and he didn’t pay any attention to my blowing my horn constantly and I can never remember which one’s the brake”).
Problem solved. Maybe both problems solved. Isn’t nature wonderful?
Finally, it’s time for our regular feature: People With Whacked-Out Hobbies.
This week, meet Louis Pelletier Jr., 70, of Allagash. He collects chain saws.
He has about three hundred and fifty of them. And he knows lots of other people who collect chain saws, too. His wife once threw them all out (the chainsaws, not the people), but now he has his collection in a separate building and not in their bedroom.
He, at least, has no reason to be worried about giant lobster attacks.
Al Diamon can still receive emails in his underground bunker. Send them to firstname.lastname@example.org. You could also send some chain saws.