Many years down the road, he would finally seek treatment with a psychiatrist to undo the years of damage of pretending to eat crab while struggling with the confounding mess of disembodied limbs encased in tough shell, (dammit if this is not evidence of inedibility), in order to seem normal and fit in with his friends in a social activity called the seafood dinner.
Yes, I am the crab pretender. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to fit in. But I can’t take it anymore. I wanted everyone to be happy at dinner. But no more, I shall not pretend anymore. Let this be said to the world! Give me your crab dinners and I shall go! Gladly! But I can’t pretend I’m a crab lover like the rest of the world anymore! Give me chicken, preferably deboned!