shrimp

So, you bought some frozen shrimp. A big pack, you thought you were going to have a shrimp feast. You dragged it home, threw the bag on the kitchen table and… forgot about it. You were busy with things to do, calls, memes on the internet, you know.

About three hours later, you notice some movement on the table out of the corner of your eye. You think you're hallucinating. You come closer... and almost lose your power of speech.

Shrimps! They dance! No, they don't just twitch like defrosted meat. They have a whole disco there! Small, pink, with their tails falling off, but they dance! To some invisible music, in sync, as if they had been rehearsing their whole lives. Some of the especially wild ones even managed to do somersaults.

You stand there like a statue, your jaw hanging open. And then one, the most daring shrimp, stops, looks at you with its beady eyes and says in a creaky voice:

• Hey, you, landlubber! The disco closes in an hour! Either join in or get out of here before the cat comes!

At this point you finally realize that either you've gone crazy or the shrimp know something. You ask in your mind, "What... what's going on?"

And the shrimp, adjusting the crookedly glued rhinestone on her head, continues:

• You see, when shrimps are frozen, they go into cryo-sleep. But in each of us, there lives a spirit of freedom and dance! And when you defrosted us, you set that spirit free! But not for long, soon we'll be just food again. So shake your buns while you still have time!

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