Below are the 3 most recent journal entries recorded in swaziloo's LiveJournal:

Friday, June 2nd, 2006
2:54 pm	Crustacean Confusion! A field of eyes grew from the still expanse of the tide pool. With each short wave that rippled across the surface they would disappear for a moment, and then, one by one, poke through the water tension like row upon row of sprouting corn. Only Wilson remained above the water line, perched atop a broken shell near the base of Barnacle Ledge. His tiny eyes stared intently at the large cirriped directly above him. A wave lapped over him and along the wall, and as the water receded, he perceived the six plates moving in the prearranged fashion. "That's the signal! That's the signal!!" Wilson had to check his excitement as he advanced up and across the rocks. Behind him, the troop broke the surface and scuttled through the shale and tough grasses toward the shingle. Wilson gained the beach first, and without hesitation bolted up to the mechanism that had caused himself and his troop so much grief. As the others fell in, sans the expected conflict, they found Wilson agape, staring at the large, blue machine. On the side was printed, in large letters, the word 'Wilson.' "Well, that just chafes my pleopods!" Fred arrived last, clambering through the ranks to the front. "It's got the same name as all those green balls on it!" Wilson turned slowly as Fred's words sank through his stupor. "What did you say?" (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, December 21st, 2004
10:27 am	Lookout Barnacles! "Alright. Listen up," spoke Wilson, "I've come to an arrangement..." He clicked his claws in a manner that informed the whole troop he was scheming. "...with the barnacles. Apparently, they've got a clear view of the beach head at low tide..." "Low tide?!!" It was Fred again. "Are you outta your mind? We'll get dragged over the rocks and pelted to bits at low tide!" "Listen, Fred, I don't care for your attitude." Wilson drifted close, his short, broken antenna pointing dangerously toward Fred's cephalothorax. "That thing out there is a ball machine, or I'll be broiled and dipped in butter. And behind every ball machine is someone who doesn't like to be pinched!" He snapped a claw shut dangerously close to one of Fred's eyestalks. "The barnacles aren't on board for long, they've got to maintain their cover." He turned to address the whole the troop. "Get ready, we leave when the barnacles give the word!" (Comment on this)
Tuesday, December 7th, 2004
3:56 pm	Mutinous Lobsters! Several large crustaceans climbed slowly from the tidepool. Their leader, a rough-looking old salt named Wilson glanced back and clicked over his shoulder. "Fred! Get that algae off your antenna. You represent the troop when we're on the outside!" Fred obliged quietly, and the group set off sideways across the beach head. Suddenly, and without any warning whatsoever, large green tennis balls, fired from a ball thrower began pelting the troop. "RETREAT!" Called Wilson, and the whole army quickly scuttled back into the ocean. (1 Comment |Comment on this)