One girl sauntered up to me and I saw that she had lobster claws for hands, but that she had sewn them in a pale peach color and fitted them over each folded arm, like crustacean wings. She poked me tenderly with one of them, but, like the bartender, she could tell I was not the frisky sort. My father had disappeared, and I was grossed out by that. I heard the sound of hydraulics. I woke with a start.

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