Lusty The Lobster: Chapter One

Travelling through the blue-sky setting sun backdrop, a giant jet made its presence heard, roaring its engines while passengers aboard plotted their agendas after departing the flying mechanical tube.

Below wearing marina friendly shorts and tight tops Kissee professionally socialized with fraternity brothers spending their final summer break days.

“Earlier today the weather impact team reported there was going to be a mysterious mist tonight,” John Weeks mentioned handing the server his laminated menu.

“Are you scared of getting hooked?” Bruce Babcock added.

Giving a customer relation glare Kissee retaliated, “I am sure the sun will come out tomorrow.”

“Hey, Kissee,” Bruce exclaimed, “you know State University has an awesome sorority, you should register for class and enjoy the pool amenities, studying meteorology.”

“Five broiled one baked,” she screamed naturally performing a seasonal strut into the kitchen.

“Do they want them buttered up?” A voice wearing the traditional greasy white culinary uniform replied.

“Who doesn’t want good old Lusty the Lobster smothered in oil?” Kissee smirked heading back seducing the outdoor dock credit card holders into purchasing meaty shellfish.

Having a split-second memory lapse, the hard-working local forgot, the race day concluded a short time ago inside the gambling resort and Kissee grimace watching the Horsesea Express reach port. Her independent hostess business depended on the patrons knowing the tickets cashed determined how many Lustys are served as dinner entrées inside the Highlands eatery overlooking the Atlantic water basin. Ever since the globe started warming last century the oceanic picture postcard scene transitioned from choppy wakes to a boiling spectacle rivaling a relaxing hot spring.

For decades the town council discussed the potential damage and were grateful when the spa atmosphere developed, creating a whole new marketing strategy.

When all the daily work finished, the environmental tempting tease would possess Kissee luring her into a therapeutic swim soothing her photogenic model features. But tonight, everything had to be delayed, when the elderly gamers did not go straight to their cars counting losses. Instead, a quick left changed the ensemble's routine as they trekked up the wooden planks signaling Kissee, the land-loving diners arrived needing a nightly special monologue performance.

“Seems to be a bunch of exactas were hit this afternoon,” the Chef observed.

“Those jockeys knew I wanted to shut down soon, now I am stuck here until late and have to be concerned with getting the hook in the fog,” Kissee shivered.

After the patron invasion Kissee greeted the senior citizens ready to financially transfer the free ten-dollar quarter investment ploy that paid off with winning profits. When everyone quietly sat down Kissee listened to all the handicap storytelling and appropriately laughed when the comments were funny wondering how they calculated which horses would find the winner’s circle.

“Kissee, such a sweet name,” one lady mentioned, “you know if you bathe under the moonlight emotional magic happens.”

“Where does this occur?” Kissee chose to be curious.

“Over at the pond on Kean’s Berg.”

Escaping notepad in hand Kissee overheard a fraternity brother, “you are not supposed to eat the dead men.”

Pushing the doors and entering the galley, Kissee saw a lobster tank filled with juicy succulent tasty sacrifices ready to be picked apart and digested in the same way the grandstand conversation debated past performances.

“All you Lustys, are going together into the pot,” Kissee ordered remembering a nice twenty, twenty five percent tip coming, “all do to the four-legged horses correct picks and wagers.”

Hours passed and closing twinkling lights romantically hinted encouraging Kissee to wipe down tables and stack chairs.

“Here are your receipts, Lusty,” Kissee informed her boss carrying the cash register bottom.

“Thank you,” responded the owner Lusty, “do you think calling our lobsters Lusty was pompous?”

Presenting a grin Kissee honestly commented, “Lusty, makes Lusty Lobsters and buttering them up goes a long way.”

“Your great Kissee, see you tomorrow,” complemented the establishment’s boss.

“I will be here bright and early sending off the morning risers with lobster bisque cappuccinos,”

Chuckling Lusty picked up the tank and placed it in the refrigerator freezer, “reprieve,” Lusty joked.

Flipping previously owned car keys and pressing her electronic fob gadget the rent a wreck automobile purchase lit up like a Christmas Tree. Opening the door, the innocently devious young twenty-something adult who nearly missed being cast as a professional football cheerleader entered the driver’s seat.

Setting all the mirrors following her good look inspection, Kissee put the car in reverse then proceeded forward. Proceeding down the scenic drive route with her favorite local band demo tape playing, she came along a sign, “Boil Beach”.

As the car slowly rolled, Kissee found a space joining a van as the only other empty lot inhabitant. Turning the ignition off, Kissee opened the door showing her tan leg up against the white shorts once promoted during Lusty the Lobster’s family friendly commercial tease.

Suddenly, the van door opened, and Long John stepped out fiddling with a camera, “are you working hard in your dark room? Long John?”

“Uh maybe, have some hot pictures inside my clam hut,”

“Really of who? Me?”

“Not you Kissee,” Long John laughed, “State University delightful calendar shoot,” Long John pointed toward the ‘Berg 'nicked named ‘Kean’.

“You went over and shot a bunch of higher education students over at Kean’s Berg,” Kissee slowly prowled noticing Long John’s shirt fashionably comfortable.

“Well, I am going over to the watering hole on Kean’s Berg, and intend on doing my best breaststroke, if you know what I mean, and I know you do.”

“Yeah, sure Kissee,”

“Do you still have film in the camera? You can follow me, and we can engage in some social media interaction,” Kissee plotted acknowledging the simple rowboat lying stationary.

“Maybe,” Long John answered.

“Underneath this uniform I am wearing the ‘red-light one-piece swimsuit special’ sold during the five and dime flashing fifteen-minute sale.”

“How much was the red-light one-piece bathing suit special at the five and dime store?”

“A quarter,” Kissee explained, “I played cups with the salesman, I think he made it, so I would win.”

“Let me load up my Kodak and I will see you,”

“I will be pondering whether meteorology school registering is something for me, maybe you can use the prints in your calendar thing,” Kissee remarked, “oh, bring some Champaigne, we need to keep everything bubbling.”

Long John disappeared and inserted a fresh film package seriously concerned seeing a cloudy mist form, challenging Long John to spend the night inside the Clam Hut. Dispelling the warning Long John peered outside the window confirming Kissee promise keeping, slowly removing her shorts, revealing the discounted lifeguard approved crimson attire. Sticking his lens outside the bulb created a nice spotlight which energized Kissee into revealing the bathing suit top.

“For a five a dime replacement that suit could use some attention,” the shutter bug companion commented clicking away.

Leaving the uniform, socks, shirt and sneakers behind, a splash sound disturbed the cricket symphony entertaining the silent stillness and Kissee was off taking her tropical adventure combatting the unknown elements.

Only a few feet below a coral creature prepared the sandy floor bed, standing guard motionlessly despite haunting angry mood swings flaming the angler bait, realizing his bloodline entourage continuously ends up captured then sent off to a blue-plate deadly demise, instigating his defensive moves.

Granted survivor superpowers conjured up when the world’s hot tub temperatures started rising heating vengeful spirits. Fully comprehending the action happening at the surface, the lobster’s dream world vacation seemed distracted, forcing the conch snail to confront the issue.

Slowly floating, crustaceous opinions snapped bothering other timid underwater neighbors while his predator eye kept following the human guest.

Relishing the tranquil moon glow, Kissee reached her destination embracing everything life offered. Immediately, drying off, “I made good time,” she marched reflecting upon why she failed in the scholastic Global Sporting Spectacles try out competition trials.

Hustling barefoot through the grassy environmental buffer, she easily discovered the enchanting pond scene and waterfall backdrop landmark. Named for the Island of Jersey first Governor Keans, the berg luring behavior pleased the escape needs.

Seeing popping fermentation, Kissee’s beautiful body engulfed all the sensations stepping into the sinful garden atmosphere quickly finding a sitting rock where she waited hoping to hear opportunity knocking and documenting her current credible image.

A well-marked footprinted map guided the red lobster inland, who grew every step enduring the nature path and the journey ended allowing his expanding monstrous size body to create horrendous havoc writing a message addressing the physically fit youth wanting a successful tranquil setting secure base.

“Long John, I can hear you,” Kissee excitingly exclaimed anticipating being appreciated, “I am looking really good for you in this ensemble, already buttered up, I tell you it will make the gambling grandma browsing around aisle fifteen at the discount store blush when they see the colorful advertisement, and everything half off.”

Revolving around like riding a three hundred degree turning pedestal platform, Kissee emotions instantly changed yelling, “Lusty!” Encountering a fierce swipe across the maturing face rendering her unconscious and fighting back impossible. Turning up the global warming issue Lusty watched his prey Kissee helplessly sink, sensing a desperate plea, ‘no Lusty, no’.

Taking a few steps back the tormented lobster claimed a fig leaf bib from a tree and posed on his haunches waiting for the Kissie’s cooking alarm clock to ring.

When done he pulled the body out admiring the sweaty scarlet texture before going to work devouring legs, arms, and internal organs. When the stomach revealed a delectable fetus dessert surprise, the gigantic crustacean welcomed the extra additional bundle of joy.

Long John loaded the rowboat within seconds, feeling energetic, and ventured towards the darkness expecting pulling a daily double spread. Masculine arm power commanded the manual transportation across the waterway.

Harnessing tripod and lens over his shoulder the photographer proceeded down the route which he had taken numerous times when creating many still masterpieces. “Oh Kissee,” he called out only receiving echo silence. Concluding she was fooling around; he calmly approached the forestry manmade protection barrier.

As the moon acted like a night light Long John came across the table scraps Lusty left behind, a shocked and frightened lensman realized only one thing he could do, start taking brochure sales pictures not comprehending a big ecological story, just broke. As the white bulb flickered the Lobster awakened. Ignoring the gloom and doom predicament, Long John stayed professional, even though the devastating deadly punch came down on him real hard.

A few hours after the sun initially peeked out the Horsesea Express made its first stop before taking the players to the racetrack. “You all can enjoy a fantasy morning, then head off to the exciting thundering hoofs,” the tour guide announced.

Mildred and Gladys, whose husbands stayed aboard the cruise reading the equine reports investigated Kean’s Berg famous attraction. “I hear the kids love this place,” Mildred said.

“If it keeps them motivated, that’s great,” Gladys pleasantly stated, “kids are people too and they work really hard during these uncertain times especially that beacon light Kissee.”

Continuing encountering brush obstacles, the pair finally found the pond area and Gladys pulled out the camera.

“Oh look, Gladys,” Mildred exclaimed, “that Lusty will not stop gimmicking, he has an enormous lobster wearing a fig leaf bib statue.”

“I must take a picture to show the guys,”

“Maybe it will make them hungry,”

“I think a few winning exacta tickets will do that,” Gladys giggled watching the sculpture twitch, “his claw just moved.”

“Lusty is using wires, let’s get back to the boat,” Mildred concluded.

When all the passengers boarded the ferry departed bringing Lusty the Lobster back to earth. No longer an overpowering figure, the creepy critter returned to his aquatic setting. Shading his eyes Lusty monitored the restaurant’s complementary cruise fishing excursion dropping traps. Hoping his army stayed vigilant, he swam and walked, until finding a nice siesta resting place.

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