PREVIEW

... with hospitality.

A disgusting, bloated lobster comes running at me, its eyes boiling with rage, and hissing globs of unspeakable goo bubbling up from its carapace so fast the monster leaves a thick trail of ooze behind it.

I mean, what do I even do? I don't want to bite the thing. If I actually manage to hurt it, my mandibles will probably melt off. Its claws don't seem any more appealing than the rest of it. It has four, because of course it does, and the pincers look more like ...

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