I started my morning as I always do... paying way too much money for my mocha motivation, and leaving a good tip to ensure the perfection I demand from my coffee-milk-cocoa-and-raw sugar concoction. As I awaited my stunning beverage, a rainbow shimmied across the sky and a small flock of finches settled on the hood of my van, serenading me with rhapsodies of world peace. A familiar desire flooded me to join the Peace Corp and aid starving marmosets in third world countries. You probably didn’t realize coffee could be so beautifully inspiring, did you? Well, it can.

Blessed with my tall cup of glory, I pulled to the end of the drive-thru, stopping in front of the conveniently positioned garbage receptacle to dispose of the straw wrapper in an environmentally conscious kind of way. But even though I could practically touch the can, the balled up paper bounced off the rim and fell somewhere on the ground. Embarrassed by my bungled slam dunk, I floored the gas and sped away with squealing tires so as not to draw attention.

As I put miles between me and the coffee shop, the surreal moment replayed in my mind. It wasn’t so bad; in retrospect, I definitely provided the car behind me with an eyeful that no doubt brightened their dreary existence. I chuckled as I remembered that bouncing wrapper – although in my memory the paper produced a little ‘boink’ as it somersaulted in slow motion through the air and swan dived onto the asphalt. Chuckles turned to laughter as I relived that epic moment over and again in my mind.

I finally calmed down to mere snickering, placated and sobered by the powerfully tragic love song that gurgled from the radio. With its sad, mournful music composed of guitars and stuff, it was one of those songs that would forever define its generation; much like Cyndi Lauper's "She Bop" did in the 80's. I sang along in my quasi querulous alto, resonating harmoniously with the bass line:

"Kick me in the face, punch me in the ear... Oh baby, I love you more than I love cheap beer!”

Captivated in the thrall of my power ballad induced delirium, I began swerving during the 'polly wolly doodle' bridge – I'm still trying to master my vibrato. So it was no surprise I didn't realize I was being followed. At first I thought it was a police car, but upon closer squinting I realized it was a crab. Yes, a giant blue crab – possibly even a soft shell – already dipped in a flour and Old Bay mixture. It left a white glutinous trail in its wake, much like a highway jet ski.

That was when I discovered how fast crabs can actually run.

Sure, I did find it odd that this crab was not running sideways, but rather, straight ahead. I think it possibly may have been genetically altered for intelligent superiority. Perhaps a science experiment gone awry. As it closed the gap between us it was waving one of its claws frantically. I really couldn't see what it was holding, but I assumed that one of my hubcaps had rolled off (again) and punctured yet another pedestrian's pituitary gland. So I pulled to the side of the road and rolled down my window, prepared to praise the crustacean for its humanitarian efforts.

But when it opened its claw, I discovered not a hubcap, or a pituitary gland, or even an errant spleen, but the balled up straw wrapper that had fallen on the ground. The crab was a damned environmentalist!

"Screw you, crab! Go jump in the Chesapeake Bay!"