by John Gabriel Adkins
"And that is why you aren't allowed to date until you're 18," said Crab Mother to little Angelina Crab, both of whom were crabs. In their ugly green minivan, straight into a blinding sunset, they were driving back from junior high swim practice. Crab Mother wore her mean-mugging Ray-Bans, and little Angie just squinted.
"But I really like Edward," Angelina protested.
Crab Mother pulled into their dismal suburban driveway. "And I really liked your father, sweet pea." Her claw jerked the car into park. "If he really likes you, he'll wait around. Now go in and call for a pizza. Mommy's head hurts."
Angelina unbuckled and obeyed. Crab Mother leaned over the wheel and pinched between her eyestalks.
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