Hello there. My name is Seymour and you're probably wondering about my life. Oh, you're not? Well, I'll be quick then. I spend each day digging tunnels, snipping at little specks in the water, and getting pecked at by gigantic white birds. Sorry, I forgot to mention, I'm a crab. I suppose that's a detail you'd like to know. But don't get too excited. I'm not one of those television crabs that grumpy men on boats go after. I'm one of those itty-bitty crabs that scuttle about in the sand between the tides. The ones that little kids, in the middle of the night, point flashlights at. Please don't do that, it hurts my eyes. 

What I'm trying to say is that I'm not suited for the life of an itty-bitty crab. Did I mention the gigantic white birds? They're particularly annoying. I'd much rather have a life like yours. Assuming you're a human. You are a human right? If you were a crab, you'd tell me? I don't want this getting back to the other itty-bitty crabs.

When the water crawls back into the sea after each wave and I have a moment on dry land, I look into your lives. I've seen the way you drink Coca-Cola, read the first chapters of books, and wear funny hats. All in all, a much better life than that of a crab. Especially the bit about the hats. But there is one thing you do that confuses me. You get each other to make this strange noise. It's like a loud, happy cough. Laughing? Is that what it's called? We crabs don't do the laughing. The gigantic white birds might get us. But it looks fun. 

One day, I had enough of life as I knew it. The other crabs had taken all the little specks in the water, leaving none for me. So I made my decision: I was going to be a human. I dug my little tunnel away from the sea and towards my soon-to-be fellow humans. I didn't have much of a plan. I figured I could join up with some of you and just, you know, blend in.

So I dug and I dug. But the sand got dryer and dryer. Soon, my tunnel couldn't hold its shape. I wondered what happens to human tunnels when the sand gets too dry. That was going to be my first question.

Forced to emerge, I did my best side-to-side scuttle. I've been told I have a very good side-to-side scuttle. But it didn't seem to do the trick that day. Because right then, a massive bucket came down from the sky and trapped me. The light from the sun penetrated the plastic walls and casted a dim purple glow upon everything. Who had trapped me in this giant purple prison? I wondered. I would very much like to have a word with them.

And then, as if reading my mind, one edge of the bucket lifted slightly. Just outside my confinement, I saw two big blinking eyes and a sandy nose looking back at me. I wandered up to the bucket master and in return, they gave me one of those happy coughs. My prison cell lifted and before me was a little human girl.

Unafraid, she kept her face very close to mine and I fidgeted at the thought of what to do next. Stop thinking like a crab, I said to myself. What would a human do? Taking a shot in the dark, I pinched her nostril as tightly as I could. But judging by the way she cried, I was beginning to think it was a misstep on my part. 

I let go and her nose wrinkled in anger. She primed her fingers for a mighty flick, ready to send me into oblivion. My instinct was to go for another pinch to smooth things over, but I resisted. Instead, I embraced the finger that sought to destroy me. I hugged as hard as a crab can hug, and her hard face softened. She plopped me onto her outstretched palm and then she was off. 

Carrying me at her side, she jumped and skipped across the sand. All the ups and downs sent my crab belly curling in on itself. I was about to vomit, but don't worry, I played it cool and passed out instead. 

When I awoke, I was swallowed by a big shadow and, in my crabby experience, big shadows meant big trouble. What could be so big that it blocked out the sun? I thought maybe it was a group of gigantic white birds huddled together, pretending to be an even bigger bird. My imagination can run away like that sometimes. But I knew it wasn't my human because she sat next to me. I worked up the courage to look up and then used said courage to, well, look up. What I saw was a beauty so tremendous, it had every bone in my exoskeleton shaking.

It was a towering castle made of sand. 

Was this for me? Judging by a shell mosaic in the shape of crab at the tippy top, the answer was at least maybe. But I looked around and saw no other crabs, so the answer was promoted to yes. Indeed, this was for me. 

It was perfect in every way. Little windows, arches, and a spiral staircase leading to the top. You see, we crabs don't use stairs but I appreciated the gesture. Oh, what am I saying? I thought. I'm a human now. I love stairs. They're my favorite. 

So I climbed the stairs very humanly and sat on top of the little girl's gift to me. I studied the mosaic. The head was a bit big, but besides that, it looked just like me. 

Before I could thank her, she ran off to retrieve buckets, shovels, butter knives, and a rake-y thing. Before long, she was hard at work. And as the sun drifted across the sky, I watched as beautiful marvels rose from the sandy earth. My human sculpted mighty walls, a post office, a balloon store, and three ice cream shops. Everything that a proper human like me could ever need. 

She would sometimes disappear, my human. But as soon as my heart began to panic, she would dance her way back down the path with more gifts. Little pools of Coca-Cola, my very own radio, and little balled up breadcrumbs (a human delicacy no doubt). She would chase away the dogs and the birds to sit next to me as she thought on her next creation. I would have suggested another ice cream shop to drum up some healthy competition, but I decided to let that genius brain of hers make the call. 

Before she did, my human laid down to sleep on the sand. She deserved some rest. Creating an entire, fully functioning society is tiresome work even for someone like her. And while she drifted into a dream and the sun kissed the horizon, I wandered my beautiful kingdom. Each crack of the sidewalk carefully drawn and each curtain of every shop delicately carved. 

But just beyond her mighty walls of sand, I heard the swell of water. No, you stupid ocean! I said. I'm a human now. You're not allowed to do this! But the ocean didn't seem to like being called stupid because it raged even harder. A foamy wave rose up like a curtain above the sandy walls and each watery rush devoured more and more of my human home. My walls, my post office, my balloon store, and each of the three ice cream shops crumbled into clumps of dark sand. 

I fled to the castle, the only thing left standing. Out of instinct, I did my award-winning side-to-side scuttle before quickly forcing myself to walk forward like I had been practicing. With the water chasing me, I stumbled up the stairs and clung to my big-headed portrait made of shells. But all around, the faces of my castle peeled away and disappeared into the foam, submerging with the rest of the little girl's efforts.

The water got its wish. It pulled me back into the world of digging tunnels, snipping at specks, and dealing with particularly annoying gigantic white birds. As I floated away, I dug deep into my belly and pushed out one little happy cough for my human.