Norman's Allegory     Somewhere high over the Canadian Rockies Norman the Lobster soars. Claws outstretched, wind in his beady eyes. Clouds scream past him. He is red lightning.     Somewhere shallow and wet in Cape Cod Norman the Lobster wakes up. He's feeling good. A few jumping jacks to get the blood flowing. He flexes his claws. First the left - open, close, open, close. Then the right - open, close, open... hold it... close. Ah. Norman the Lobster is ready for anything.     Norman walks to work. He can't drive - few lobsters can. He's feeling snappy - yeah, that's the word! He snaps his claws in rhythm with his steps, feeling like he's got the lead in an undersea version of West Side Story. He smiles at passing lobsters. Some smile politely, some avert their eyes, looking just ahead of him, pretending not to see him. Oh well, he shrugs. Their loss! An older lobster says "Nice morning, huh?" as he passes. Norman begins to answer but realizes it wasn't much of a question to begin with. Another shrug and he's on his way, sliding down the sidewalk like sweet buttered yams.     At work Norman is king, completely in his element. Need something signed? Just give that pen to Norman, he's the go-to guy for signatures. Oh, you need something stamped? Norman's got three different colors of ink. Don't even think of stapling your own papers - Norman'll do it twice as fast for half the cost. Look here, it says on his resume.     Time for a break.     "Hey fellas,"     "Hey Norman."     "What's new?"     "Not much."     "Cool, cool."     At conversation Norman the Lobster is a god, striking the unworthy down with his words.     "Well, don't work too hard guys!"     "Alright. Seeya."     "Bye!"     That went well.     Norman goes outside. It's his break, who's gonna stop him? He goes across the street to the affordable chain restaurant. His friend Marv works there. Norman values friendship.     "Hey Marv."     "Yo buddy."     "What's cookin'?"     "Nothin' much."     "Cool, cool."     They sit in a booth and sip coffee. Norman takes it with cream, half and half if you have it. Oh yeah, we have the little tubs of cream at the table already. My bad! Norman shares a laugh with the waiter, a friend of his friend Marv. A second generation friend. A friend twice removed.     "Hey Norm,"     "What's up bud?"     "I was just thinking... it's pretty cool, our friendship."     "Yeah, it's pretty tight." Norman teaches an evening class on slang at the local junior college.     "It's just so cool that I've got a friend with only one claw."     Norman the Baffled. Norman the Self Conscious. Norman the Offended.     Crossing the parking lot, Norman mulls over the intonations of his friend's comment. I think he put an emphasis on the word "one", which must mean he was being sarcastic. Why didn't I ask him? I've got two claws, I do! I should ask him. I'm going to turn around and ask him. No, he'll think I'm weird, he'll wonder why I didn't immediately ask. He'll think I have no self confidence, he'll ask why I can't take a joke. No he won't, I'm going to go and ask him.     Too late, Norman is already sitting at his desk. Oh well, I'll ask him next time I see him.     The stamping-stapling-filing machine that is Norman rumbles to life. Stacks of paper are simple obstacles to be deconstructed, page-by-page, adjusted, altered, attached together, occasionally signed, then re-stacked on the opposite end of the desk. Even the papercut's deadly threat goes unheard by Norman.     Enter Jules, following twenty feet behind his own loud voice. Production halts. In the family tree of Norman's corporate employer, Jules is his father. Jules is The Man, always keeping Norman down. If he'd just let Norman do his own thing, Norman would have this place cleaned up in two weeks, maybe three.     "Norm the Storm!"     "Hey Jules."     "Workin' hard? Or hardly working? Haw haw haw!"     Norman's laugh joins Jules'. The laughs hold hands and dance out the window.     Jules wipes a dry tear from his eye.     "That one's a killer."     "You said it."     "Anyway, Norm, I've got good news and I've got good news. Which do you want to hear first?"     "Err... the good news."     "Interesting! An optimist. Ok, here goes: You're being promoted!"     Norman's fist pumps the air. Somewhere in his head Journey cranks the adrenaline to max.     "The higher-ups are trying to create a more diverse working environment. We're moving some salmon from the mailroom into IT, but we need someone differently-abled in upper management. Since you're the only guy with one claw we figured you'd be good to show off. I mean, show off your talents."     The flowchart of Norman's mind flies into action. If I mention that I actually have two claws, a fact that for unknown reasons is hidden from his boss' all-encompassing knowledge, I will be denied the promotion. But if I just go with it, I'll get the promotion but I'll be living a lie. Someone will find me out! I'll be shamed, forced to work in the basement. They'll probably make me work the latrines. Worse yet I'll be kicked out of my home and have to live in the boiler-     "Don't you want to hear the good news now?"     "Wasn't that it?"     "You've been promoted! Haw haw haw!"     Norman walked right into that one.     Oh well, maybe I'll get an office with a window. I'd like to see the sky while I stamp.     The day ends. Norman melts, drips down the stairwell, out the door, and flows down the street.     At the door of his apartment Norman fumbles with his key. If he pushes it in too far it won't turn at all, so he has to push it in and then pull it out just slightly to the perfect depth, allowing him the full arc of motion needed to solve the little puzzle that is his lock. It's not easy, but he's taught himself to survive the obstacles of a world where men-     "Hey Norman."     It's Alice. His neighbor.     "Hey Alice."     Alice is young. A year older than Norman. Alice represents the good of the world.     "Hard day at work?"     "Not at all - they promoted me!"     "Oh Norman that's great! Congratulations!"     "Now they'll let me use up to five colors of ink for my stamps. We're talking total ink freedom."     "That's so cool."     The talk is small. The ambitions are big.     "Hey, I was thinking... maybe, you know, to celebrate, maybe... maybe you wanna come over, I could cook something. I make a mean pot pie."     She'll say yes. She has to! I'm a bigshot now, I've been promoted. Five inks! I saw her eyes light up when I said that. But what if she doesn't? No, she will. Wait, what if she thinks this is a neutral meeting between neighbors? Oh jeez, I screwed this up. She'll think it's just a polite dinner meeting, not a date. Nothing I said indicated I meant a date. Why didn't I use the word "date"? No, that would be awkward. Man I should have worded it differently! No, it was totally clear. Was it? Oh man I don't know. Do I want her to say yes to a neutral dinner meeting? That's even worse right? Is it? Maybe it could transform during the course of the evening. Maybe I should revise my proposal. No, it was clear. I totally made it clear. Clear as - she's answering!     "Oh Norman, thanks..."     A pause. A pause is bad. Really bad! She wouldn't pause if she was going to say yes. Even if she does say yes it means she isn't sure, or maybe she doesn't want to hurt my feelings, but she doesn't really want to say yes. We'll go out and get married and have children but she'll be too timid to say she actually hates my guts and we'll be trapped in a loveless marriage until we die. Maybe she really does think this is a neutral, neighborly dinner meeting. But why would she pause? It doesn't make sense.     "The thing is..."     The thing is! What thing? There shouldn't be a thing!     "It's just that, well... how should I put this?"     Put what?! Just say it! Oh why won't you say it?     "It's just that... I'm looking for a guy with... with two claws. I mean, it's totally cool you have one claw, I think that's what makes you such a great guy, but... well, it's just that's not what I'm looking for. It's totally me, I have bad taste, I should like guys with only one claw but I have terrible taste, just terrible. You know what I mean?"     Two claws! Two! I have two claws! I do! What is going on? Are these people mad? Is this an April Fool's joke a group of my friends and acquaintances got together to plan? That would be so awkward, all these people only vaguely connected meeting together for the first time to plan something so complex. Is it April first? I need to find a calendar. Does my watch have a calendar? No, I opted out on that, saved twenty bucks. Why do they think I have only one claw? This is vexing! Maybe if I got a third claw surgically attached people would think I have two... no that's stupid, people would think I have three claws because that's what I would have. Which claw is it they don't see anyway? Is it the same claw for everybody? It must be. Oh man I can't believe she said no - one claw! What's her problem?     Well at least she didn't think it was a neutral dinner meeting. END Back