Every day he goes on about how badly he wants to eat us, clicking his pincers together for emphasis. The little shrimp statue is terrified and so are the stuffed shorebirds.
And do you think he gets purchased and taken home by some lucky customer? Noooo. No one wants to buy a lobster knick-knack. No one wants to buy any of us, which is why we're going to all be here at Mr. Willard's Trading Post collecting dust for all time.
I'm a lovely china teapot with golden sheep emblazoned on my side. The lobster's not interested gobbling up a teapot, so I'm safe, though I'm sure he'd just love to nip at the heels of those dear little sheep. Brute.
Today the lobster is intimidating the crystal snail on the edge of our shelf. "You," the lobster says to him, and there goes the click clack of his claws, "will make a very fine dinner."
But then heaven almighty, Mr. Willard places a big brass seal on our shelf.
"Who wants to be eaten first?" the seal barks. And though none of us is thrilled to have another bully in our midst, we're all a little bit pleased to see the lobster tremble.
"Food chain," I want to remind him, "it's all about the food chain."