The Endless Succession

The shrimp told me to. And when I say “the shrimp” I’m not talking about the guy that works on the second floor who should think more seriously about platform shoes. I’m talking about the little pink guys that live in the ocean. Last Thursday I was watching The Apprentice, as I always do on Thursdays, when my program was interrupted by a message. It was the shrimp. I received a message that they need liberation from the fish-eaters down at red lobster and other sea food offering restaurants. I was sure this was a joke, a farce; someone was going to pop out from behind the curtains and tell me I was on candid camera. But no such luck. Then the shrimp spoke my name. (Oh? Didn’t you think shrimp could speak? They have tiny voices that they amplify with voice box speakers. These mostly fail to work under the water, so most fresh caught shrimp do not have their amplifiers with them to tell the fisherman to release them.) I knew that this was no laughing matter. I was given my instructions.
Let me tell you something about shrimp. They are idealists, the whole lot of them. They believe in peace and work in nonviolent ways to accomplish their goals, but they have watched our kind and the ways we behave. They’ve studied us for centuries, because the only way to defeat your enemy is to understand him. For years after mankind started walking around the shrimp watched us with amusement. They had been a civilized society for thousands of years before we ever picked up a rock. When man began fishing the shrimp became aware of the threat to the ocean. They personally weren’t threatened as our fishing techniques were very primitive and they only had to worry about us stepping on them at that time. But then we started tools and fire and it all went down hill from there.