Dropping nearly four feet to the floor hadn't been good for his brittle lobster armor. The best Dan could determine, he'd survived, but his shell had received some significant dents.
Dan next tried to figure out his next move. His eyestalks functioned poorly when not submerged, so Dan had little choice but to scuttle blindly, trying to seek out a hiding place in the enormous kitchen. He tried to wedge himself into the space between the floor and the bottom of an industrial-sized refrigerator, but the plumpness bulging his lobster shell kept him from complete concealment.
The earlier ice water bath and now being out of the water began to deprive his gills of needed moisture, leaving him woozy and disoriented.
“Looks like someone tried to make a break for it,” the chef said, returning to the kitchen and finding that his lobster had attempted to flee the scene.
The man’s hand closed around the lobster’s carapace and tugged gently to pull it from beneath the fridge where it had wedged itself. “Come along. All these antics will make your meat taste less sweet and delectable.”
“No!” Dan screamed wordlessly before he landed with a loud plop, right back into the icy bowl, if only for mere moments. Steam rose from the towering nearby kettle, a signal that the salty water had reached a roiling boil.
He had used almost all his energy on his foiled escape attempt. Now, the frigid bowl of water farther chilled him into a lethargic state. He barely comprehended when a hand once again gripped his shell and lifted him from the icy water.
Rising steam from the tall kettle tickled Dan's chilled lobster body.
It almost felt good, but then the hand let go. He dropped with hardly a splash into the boiling water of the pot.