“It got 12 likes,” or That Time I Became a Rogue Lobster Rescuer

I will begin by saying, the tweet got 12 likes.

It actually got more than 12 likes.

Anyway, it is because this tweet got the necessary number of likes that my story has been told. Although it has been shared with Twitter, I will now share it on my blog as I had originally planned to… before I forgot. 🤷🏻‍♀️

(No, this is not anime content. Yes, I am going to review “Jie Yao” soon because I enthusiastically watched the whole show in one afternoon.)

Anyway, we begin!

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First, to set the scene: I am a child of about seven-ish years old or so (IDK time is meaningless) and I am a lover of living things (not news, probably).

It is the 90s, and I’m grocery shopping with my mom at the big blue Walmart 25 minutes from home.

This is back in the “Wal-Mart” days: everything is white/blue, smiley stickers given by greeters to kids are the norm, and the mid-isle freezers have bumpers. I repeatedly try to balance on them and am scolded to get down.

We’ve been shopping for what feels like forever to a kid, and now we’re in the freezer section. (Don’t get too close to the meat wall, it’s cold 🥶.

If you were alive in the 90s and visited a Midwestern Walmart, you may remember seeing the globular, live-lobster displays mounted on slender columns in the sections by sea food.

This little half-circle tank houses several lobsters, their sweet little claws bound by rubber bands. I greet them, meet their unique little eyes, and the horror in my child-heart when I learn what they are for is real.

I desperately do not want these lobsters to die, which I know will happen because if my mom won’t let me take them home as pets to rescue them, who else is going to save them??? It is enough to bring tears if you think about it too much!! So. What is a child Shoujo to do?

I was—you should know—considered a “goodie goodie” throughout most of my childhood. I honestly never wanted to do anything wrong. This is to say I was not the rebellious sort. I did not (do not, I hope) generally do things I knew were wrong.

But it would be wrong, my child-heart insisted, to do nothing and allow the lobsters to die! Well, let’s be honest—it was nothing so well and particularly moralized at seven-ish; I just didn’t want them to die. Them dying was too sad for me to tolerate.

The tank is locked; if I could get them out, where would I take them? 🦞 It hits me, though, what I can do. The sign lists lobster for $19.98 per lb.

I anxiously survey the area; is my mom looking? Are the blue-vested employees coming near?? Is a stocker getting ready to enter from the back room butcher area?? Did that man see me?!

I am panicking, but I meander casually over and, with constant vigilance, move as quickly as my hands will allow to slide out the flippable price plaque. I change just one number and skip away.

It is not a perfect solution, of course, but my child brain isn’t thinking entirely logically. None of you, I think to the sea creatures, will be eaten now! And why?

Well, who buys lobster for for $99.98 per lb?

(The practice at that particular Walmart of carrying live lobsters did not last very long~ 🦞 🤷🏻‍♀️)

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And now you know the story. (^-^) It is officially recorded.

Stay home when you can, wear a mask when you can’t, wash your hands, and stay safe!

~Shoujo🌸

*Cover image from Freepik on Pinterest