Let me begin by apologizing for not having a photo of the actual king crab legs referred to in this story. These are king crab legs, yes, but not THE king crab legs.
I would next like to mention that I don't eat crab. I can tolerate the taste in small amounts, but I'm not particularly fond of it. Furthermore, I don't like to put in the amount of effort required to, let's say, crack open a crab leg in exchange for the limited amount of meat that I get in return for that effort.
And that's what led to this story. I went with a few friends to a seafood restaurant and someone ordered a big plate of king crab legs. It looked much like this photo, except that the king crab legs were completely covered with a red sauce. And when I say completely covered, I mean completely covered.
One of my friends was struggling to crack open a particularly large king crab leg. I was asked to give it a try.
As my friend handed my the king crab leg and the tool, whatever it is called, she uttered a fateful word, "power."
Again, I don't eat crab legs. All I had to work with was a failed attempt by someone else and the word "power."
So I put the king crab leg into the tool, whatever it is called, and I squeezed.
The shell exploded all over the table, crossed the table, passed my friends on the other side of the table, and reached the wall behind them. Fortunately, no one got hurt by shell fragments. But, because of the generous coating of red sauce, the trail of destruction was highly evident.
There was red sauce on the wall. There was red sauce on clothing. And there was red sauce on faces.
It turns out I used a little too much power.
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