A demented tale of an eel, his razor, the human race, and lobster nostrils . . .
Let me tell a tale of hatred; A tale of horror; A tale of darkness . . . and the bizarre depths of many an eel's minds.
It began with an eel. An electric eel, no doubt about that. Abused, mentally, he was indeed. For you see, during childhood an incident occurred of which I shall only say involves a parade of lobster nostrils, and mental damage.
This eel grew up indeed, and entered the real world. A world of darkness it was. This eel swam around the depths of the sea, cursing all who lay eyes upon him. Cursing was one of his hobbies. For if you came upon this eel, you would immediately hear "You stupid son of a bitch crackhead ass---"
We cannot say in full what this eel uttered. That is but a taste of it.
This eel swam around one day, and behold! lo! for a gift was bestowed upon him. For, lying right on the floor below him was a shiny, attractive razor. Attractive it was indeed, for this razor went on many . . . Adventures with the eel. Sexual adventures they were, but we shall not hear those tales now.
This eel took the razor, and swam. He knew what he had to accomplish.
The House of Lobster Nostrils was at a location that neared the International House of Sea Pancakes. The eel knew where it was. He had brought his razor with him.
At the end of that day, every lobster nostril in the building was shaven.
The eel swam toward the surface, a mysterious place of oxygen and nitrogen. A place of strange creatures entitled "Humans". He had heard stories of these humans from the shrunken heads that were dumped in the sea constantly, the same heads that played poker and got drunk every night.
The shaving of the humans has not happened yet.