Crabs
I was about to take the rubbish out. So I opened the cabinet door
and I bent down to lift the trash bag. But I was startled to see a
number of small crabs. They ran out of the bag and then quickly hid
under the carpet.
Wondering
the appearance of such creatures, I remembered that some time ago
I had prepared a crab curry. For that I had bought a package of frozen
crabs imported from China. Before cooking, I had discarded some of
the shells and thrown them into the trash bin. Possibly the shells
had contained eggs that had survived the freezing and then revived
after thawing. Perhaps the bin had provided a suitable environment
for the eggs to develop?
I
lifted the edge of the carpet and looked at the crabs. They were light
in colour, about 3 cm in size. With eight well-developed legs and
a pair of sharp scissors, they looked rather mean. They were also
fast. Some of them had already disappeared.
I
stepped on the carpet to crush the crabs. Judging from the crunchy
sound they were instantly trampled to death. But this was only part
of the lot. Where were the rest?
Walking
from one room to another I finally got out of the house. I found my
parents there sitting in the garden, spending the evening with our
neighbours. Everyone had a book and a glass of wine. It turned out
that the daughter of the neighbouring house had recently written a
book of poems that was now published. So now, one by one, each at
their turn, they were uttering verses from the book. The atmosphere
was festive but relaxed. All agreed that the poems were very successful.
The
sky was dark, but the air was warm. It might start to rain later on.
I looked at the windows. There were no signs of the crabs. But in
the water pipes I heard a curious rustling sound.
