Lloyd Potter was sorting the laundry in his small one-bedroom apartment when the doorbell rang. He seldom had visitors. “It’s probably one of those Jehovah’s Witness again,” he said to his hermit crab Stan. Stan didn’t reply. Tossing a pair of Fruit of the Loom underwear into the “whites” pile, Lloyd left his bedroom and went to the door. He looked through the peephole and spied a man who looked slightly familiar and somewhat menacing; he didn’t appear to be a Jehovah’s Witness. Curiosity compelled Lloyd to open the door.

The stranger standing in the hall was dressed in jeans, a black turtleneck sweater, and he was wearing a dark-brown sports coat. His face had scars on the left cheek, burn scars. The man was ruggedly handsome. He smiled, and the menace that had shown on his face quickly retreated. “Hey,” the stranger said, “I’m Jürgen Prochnow. I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if might come in and talk to you about shrimp?”

Lloyd was a bit confused. The man’s name was familiar, as was his face, but he was having difficulty recalling how he knew him. “Jürgen Prochnow…do I know you?” said Lloyd.

“I don’t think we actually met, but you might know me from my work in films. I played the u-boat captain in the acclaimed German film ‘Das Boot.’ I’ve made 103 films in my career, including ‘Dune,’ ‘Beverly Hills Cop II,” and ‘The English Patient.’”

“Oh yeah,” said Lloyd, “Now I remember you, Jürgen Prochnow. Wow, this is really cool, Jürgen Prochnow at my apartment. Well, hey, come on in. My name is Lloyd Potter. I’m a phlebotomist at Our Lady of Smelt hospital.”

Lloyd led Jürgen to the kitchen table and offered him a seat and a diet Pepsi, which the actor accepted. “I really can’t believe a movie star is sitting in my kitchen,” Lloyd gushed. “Now, you said at the door you wanted to talk to me about shrimp.”

“That’s right?” said Jürgen.

“Okay, so shrimp. What about them?”

“Well,” started Jürgen.

“Whoa, hold on just a minute,” Lloyd interrupted. I just noticed the guy writing this story keeps putting two little dots above the “u” in your first name. I don’t recall anything like that in the English alphabet. ‘Jürgen,’ that sounds like it could be a Thailand name. A you a Thailander?”

“No, I’m not a ‘Thailander.” I don’t think the Thai alphabet has those little dots above any of its letters. Actually, I’m German; I was born in Berlin. A lot of European alphabets have odd little symbols attached to their letters.” Jürgen was starting to get a bit frustrated.

Lloyd tried to ignore the little dots in Jürgen’s name and refocus his attention on the movie star. “Okay, Mr. Prochnow, sorry about the interruption, it was just, you know, disconcerting seeing dots in a name. Go on now, tell about shrimp.”

“Well, it’s funny you should even mention Thailand. You see I’ve been working with a man named Dr. Boonsirm Withyachumnarnkul at Mahidol University in Bangkok. Dr. W. is one of the top scientists at the forefront of shrimp research. His current interest lies in tiger shrimp, or as they’re known scientifically, panaeus monodon. He is a member of a research group called the Center for Excellence for Shrimp Molecular Biology and Biotechnology, which was founded to save the world’s shrimp populations. Dr. W. specializes in disease screening by DNA-based technologies by polymerase chain-reaction methods and in situ hybridization.”

“Does he know anything about hermit crabs?” asked Lloyd.

“What?”

“Hermit crabs. Does this Dr. Watchamacallit know anything about them?”

Jürgen sighed. “I suppose he might know something about hermit crabs; he’s a very smart guy. Right now though he’s trying to save the tiger shrimp population from some nasty diseases.”

Lloyd smiled. “I have a hermit crab. His name is Stan. He likes to play catch.”

“That’s nice Lloyd,” said Jürgen as he tried to control his impatience. “Look, can we get back to the shrimp now? It’s really important.”

“Sure we can, but first, let me ask you something.”

Jürgen dropped his head into his hands. “Fine Lloyd. What do you want to know?”

“Does Demi Moore have nice tits?”

“What,” cried Jürgen.

“Demi Moore. She was in that movie with you, ‘The Seventh Sign.’ I didn’t care for the movie all that much, but you probably got to see Demi Moore’s tits. Were they nice?”

Jürgen slammed his open hand down on the table. The sound of meat meeting hardwood jolted Lloyd off his chair, and he tumbled to the floor. “Jesus Jürgen, what was that about?” whined Lloyd.

“I’ll tell you what that’s about Lloyd. You invited me in here after I told you I wanted to talk about shrimp. I didn’t say I wanted to talk about hermit crabs or Demi Moore’s tits; it was shrimp Lloyd, only shrimp. I came here hoping to get an average person’s thoughts on shrimp, especially tiger shrimp, and the crisis they face. I want to lend my celebrity to the shrimp cause, and I wanted to gauge the interest people had in shrimp. I love animals Lloyd, but A-list celebrities are championing all the really cute ones in dire straits, so I chose shrimp. Shrimp are important. I’m serious about this, but apparently you are not. You know Lloyd, I believe you might be an idiot, and I mean a real idiot, not just a moron.”

Lloyd got to his feet and picked up the chair he had been sitting in. He looked at Jürgen and saw the menace he had seen through the peephole. Fear gripped his testicles. He stammered, “Uh…okay, okay, I get it; shrimp are important. I got it right off, but the guy writing this put words in my mouth that made me seem idiotic, made me seem as if I could care less about shrimp. I do care Jürgen, I really do. Do you want me to sign a petition or something?”

“No, I don’t want you to sign a petition Lloyd. I simply wanted to step out of my role of German superstar for a while and connect with real people and discuss an issue that is extremely important. But, that’s not going to happen now, is it Lloyd? You allowed a writer to control this story, and judging from where it’s heading that writer is a lunatic.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” said Lloyd. “I’m very, very sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

Jürgen thought for a minute. “You can introduce me to Stan.”

The request surprised Lloyd; the actor seemed upset earlier when the subject of Stan was brought up earlier. “Yeah, sure, no problem. I’ll go get him.”

Lloyd left the room, and Jürgen drained the rest of his Pepsi. When Lloyd reappeared, he was carrying a small terrarium in which Stan was sitting. “This is Stan,” said Lloyd adverbly. “Stan, this is Mr. Jürgen Prochnow, the internationally famous German actor.”

Prochnow nodded his head towards Stan and said, “Hey Stan.” Stan remained silent. The actor didn’t seem bothered by the crab’s affront. “I tell you what Lloyd, why don’t you give Stan to me?”

“Oh man, I couldn’t do that. Stan is my friend, my companion. In fact, he is the only creature in the world who loves me.” A small tear appeared in the corner of Lloyd’s left eye.

“Wrong,” screamed Jürgen. “Nobody loves you Lloyd, especially this crab. Why would he love you? You keep him locked up in that glass box so you can try to convince yourself your life has meaning. It doesn’t Lloyd. Your life is just a whim of an insane writer. My life has meaning Lloyd. I’ve made a lot of movies. I’ve seen Demi Moore’s tits, and I’m trying to save shrimp. Dr. W’s life has meaning. He’s a real person, and he’s trying to save shrimp. He also teaches macramé to cats. You Lloyd, you’re nothing but alphabet letters without little dots.”

Lloyd began sobbing. “Can’t you see what he’s doing?”

A puzzled look came over Jürgen’s face. “What who’s doing?”

“The writer!” cried Lloyd. “The writer is trying to turn this into some kind of metaphysical dog-and-pony show. Believe me, it’s true. He’s written himself into an illiterate maze, and keeps running down dead-end paths trying to extricate himself from this silliness. We are just prawns in his game.”

At the mention of prawns, Jürgen Prochnow became enraged. “That son of a bitch. I was trying to be serious, and he has me knock on your door. You, a man who doesn’t even exist yet seems obsessed with hermit crabs and Demi Moore’s tits. I’m such a fool.”

“How do you think I feel, Jürgen? At least you get to go back to being a movie star. Me, all that is left for me is a blank page. Do me a favor Jürgen; kill me.”

Jürgen Prochnow realized an unseen hand was manipulating him, but nevertheless, he killed Lloyd. He beat him to a pulp with blue flowerpot. He didn’t bother wiping away his fingerprints, he was sure no one would ever know Lloyd was missing. On his way out, he picked up the terrarium and said, “Come on Stän, you and I are going to form a non-profit corporation to help raise awareness of hermit crab abuse.

(c) 2008