Your crawfish mother warned you not to leave Crawfish Town, but you just couldn’t crawfish listen, could you? You just had to put on your big crawfish boy pants and try to make a crawfish man of yourself in this crazy crawfish world.
So, you hopped on a crawfish bus to Crawfish New York City and crawfish walked right into that crawfish talent agent’s office and said you wanted to be a crawfish movie star. What did that crawfish agent do? He crawfish laughed right in your crawfish face, and told you to crawfish right the hell out of his crawfish office.
You had to survive, though, so you got a job as a crawfish waiter, serving rich crawfish fine crawfish foods and expensive crawfish wine, with a little crawfish cloth with tiny crawfish embroideries draped over your right claw.
Everything was going crawfish fine for a few crawfish months. After a while you got crawfish comfortable and forgot how crawfish dangerous Crawfish New York City could be for a young crawfish walking home at night.
At first you were crawfish surprised when those two rough-looking crawfish stopped you in the crawfish alley and asked you for the crawfish time. It wasn't long, however, before you crawfish realized that these two crawfish dudes probably weren’t late for a crawfish appointment or waiting to get off crawfish work. You were being crawfish mugged.
You told them you didn’t want any crawfish trouble. They said they didn’t either, all they wanted was your tiny crawfish wallet and any other crawfish valuables you had. Then you felt a swelling deep in your crawfish chest- the swelling of crawfish pride.
You told the crawfish motherfuckers to go crawfish fuck themselves, and tried to walk past them. It was the last crawfish mistake you’d ever make.
The smaller crawfish baddie produced a tiny crawfish switchblade from his crawfish jacket, flipped it open, and tossed it back and forth between his claws, as if crawfish toying with you.
“What are you gonna crawfish do with that?” you asked, a big, dumb look of crawfish incredulity on your crawfish face.
The crawfish with the crawfish knife didn’t answer. He wasn’t much of a crawfish talker. The tiny crawfish knife landed one last time in his right claw, and he drove it into your crawfish neck. He didn’t crawfish smile or crawfish frown or even crawfish wince as he crawfish stabbed you. Apparently, you were not his first crawfish murder.
The big crawfish mugger crawfish laughed as you lay bleeding out all your crawfish blood on the crawfish concrete. He took your crawfish wallet from your crawfish pants pocket, and unclasped from your arm the crawfish watch your crawfish father had given you on your eighteenth crawfish birthday. After making sure you were picked clean they crawfish walked out of the crawfish alley without another crawfish word.
You wished you’d listened to your crawfish mother, but now it’s too late to admit she was right. Now you’re crawfish dead.
You stupid fucking crawfish. I wanted to eat you.