Greetings, peasants. I will be your host for the evening. My name? I am known as the one and only, the Lobster. Below is a picture of me doing the ritualistic lobster call. Few lobsters are blessed with such abilities and fail in the execution of such a call. Many have compared its sound to that of a grown man, drunk and disorderly, bellowing incoherently to the moon. These people have no respect for such beauty and should have their shafts removed and then toasted lightly over a fire, until crisp. I imagine those would be some true hot dogs (oh, the humour!) You might be asking yourself, "Why is such a good looking and masculine lobster like yourself covered with vodka and charm?" And I might reply, "Why is your face so horribly misshapen?" Ask not thy questions of stupid nature and thou hath seeketh the path to righteousness and cometh thou thy riches of pleasure wrought in tastey urine soaked excremants.
Please enjoy your stay and try to refrain from fondling your privates. I know I am irresistable, but I will not stand for any such desecrations. That is all.
