Tanked

“Freeze, shrimp-napper!” a voice squeaked.

Chet Marlin stepped out from behind a pile of napkin dispensers. He was a small, sweaty man in a too-tight chef’s coat. He was holding a aquarium net like a sword. “I knew you’d come, Barn. Your emotional attachment to a decapod is your greatest weakness!” Tanked

Karma stopped wiping. She set the glass down. She leaned forward, her face a mask of profound, professional concern. “How much?” “Freeze, shrimp-napper