Attack of the Crab Monsters

Even from the beach I could sense it--- lack of welcome, lack of abiding life, like something in the air, a certain lack of sound. Yesterday there was a mountain out there. Now it's gone. And look at this radio, each tube neatly sliced in half. Blow the place up! That was my advice. But after the storm and the earthquake, after the tactic of the exploding plane and the strategy of the sinking boat, it looked like fate and I wanted to say, "Don't you see? So what if you're a famous biochemist! Lost with all hands is an old story." Sure, we're on the edge of an important breakthrough, everyone hearing voices, everyone falling into caves, and you're out wandering through the jungle in the middle of the night in your negligée. Yes, we're way out there on the edge of science, while the rest of the island continues to disappear until nothing's left except this cliff in the middle of the ocean, and you, in your bathing suit, crouched behind the scuba tanks. I'd like to tell you not to be afraid, but I've lost my voice. I'm not used to all these legs, these claws, these feelers. It's the old story, predictable as fallout---the re-arrangement of molecules. And everyone is surprised and no one understands why each man tries to kill the thing he loves, when the change comes over him. So now you know what I never found the time to say. Sweetheart, put down your flamethrower. You know I always loved you.