the poorly written parable of the hermit crab (part 4)

ATTENTION:

go read part 3 first.

(... continued ...)

More time passed. Mick the Hermit Crab and Angel the Angelfish now spent all their free time with each other. They were always happy. Mick had learned to be more careful when he spoke, and Angel was less guarded with her own thoughts. They talked, and laughed, and cried, and hugged, and kissed, and did all the things that a pair of young sea dwellers in love might do.

one day, Mick saw another hermit crab walking by. the crab was doing something inside his shell, Mick couldn't see what. it didn't matter. The shell reminded Mick of all the things he'd left behind in his own shell: his baking, his bicycle, his blowfish dictionary, his telescope... even though he loved being with Angel - even though he loved Angel - he missed doing all the Hermit Crab things that he had loved doing when he had a shell. It made him sad to think that he might have to choose between spending time with Angel and doing some of the old Hermit Crab things that he used to love.

But he really wanted to start doing some of those things again. he needed to tell Angel about it. he decided he would tell her that very day.

"Angel?" said Mick.

"Yes, Mick?" said Angel.

"Angel, I'd like to talk about something - nothing big. But it will take a while. When does the exhibition start?" Angel had a big sand art exhibit at the museum today.

"The exhibit starts in 1 hour. What did you want to talk about?"

"Oh... one hour... How long would it take to get there by bus?" asked Mick.

Angela looked hurt. "But Mick," she said, "I thought you were going to take me?"

Mick was silent. If she took the bus, he could go ride his old bicycle, or surfacegaze. "I've got some things I want to do," he said, "it would be easier for me to drop you off at the bus station."

Angela went to look at the bus schedule. "1 and a half hours," she said.

"Okay then," said Mick. "I'll take you, no problems." Just then his tea kettle went off. "I'll be back in a little bit," said Mick. Angela didn't like tea, so he didn't offer her any.

When Mick came back from his tea several minutes later, Angela was still sitting in front of the bus schedule. Her head was down, and it looked as if she was crying.

Anguish pierced Mick's heart. He panicked. He couldn't stand to see her this way. She never cried. What had he done? He didn't know. How could he make it better? He didn't know. He felt helpless.

"What's wrong?" asked Mick.

"You made me feel like I was a burden," said Angel.

"I'm... sorry," said Mick. "You... you are not a burden. It's just that... it's just..." Mick's voice trailed off. He took his mind's eye and looked into the future. He saw the same scene, repeated again and again and again.

He said something inconsiderate or mean or thoughtless or horrible, and Angel cried. And each time, he would feel like dying. And each time, he would feal totally helpless to fix whatever he'd done. Angel had been so understanding in the past, but sooner or later, she would not forgive him his clumsy mistakes.

He couldn't bear the thought. He didn't want to be responsible for causing her pain. Ever. No matter how much happiness he got from her, he didn't want to give her sorrow.

Mick hugged Angel, gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Mick the Hermit Crab turned away from Angel the angelfish, and with his head down, crawled back toward the rift.

As he approached, he could see where his old shell had been left. It sat there, covered with seaweed and barnacles. It was too small for him now, but it still had all his old things in it.

A strong current arose. An abandoned shell - a big one - came tumbling toward the rift. It spun and it shimmied as the strong water carried it. It looked as though it would fall into the pit, but it didn't. It hit Mick's old shell and ended its journey. The impact knocked Mick's baking pan out of his shell.

Mick looked at the baking pan, and looked behind him, to see Angel crying. She had not seen him leave. It was better that way, he thought.

Mick dragged himself across the rift, and transferred his things from his old shell to the new one. He crawled inside. All the way inside. All he could see was the sea-bed under his feet. He turned his back on the rift and began to walk away.

"Mick?" Angela's voice came from outside his new shell. she must have found his new home. "Mick? Come back..."

"I'm sorry," choked Mick. His eyes were full of tears. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Mick the Hermit Crab continued his journey away from Angela the angelfish.

He never came out of his shell again, not even a little bit. Mick the Hermit Crab lived lonely ever after.

THE END.