I ate a big pile of crab at Red Lobster. I tore those crustaceans up. Gary had to dodge claws. Crab juice was flying. Eventually a pound of crab was in my belly and a pile of shells were on the table.
I asked the waiter, if one day I became unable to crack open the crabs, was there an option on the menu of pre-shelled crab with butter.
"Nope," he said, and then volunteered that he was sure Gary would always be glad to shell my crabs for me. I lied and said, "Of course!" But of course: not.
However, it got me thinking: how about an all-crab restaurant in which bare-chested waiters come by with crab legs? Then as you sit there daintily, the waiter takes the crab in one massive hand and crushes it like a beer can. Then he deftly sorts out the crab meat and arranges it on your plate.
And then he dips it in butter and feeds it to you. No. That's too far. I just need the shell gone.
I also need a name. It's down to: Exoskeleton, Crab Kings, or Mussels.