Tanked «360p — 2K»

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

Barn ran a hand through his already chaotic ginger hair. Reginald wasn’t just a pet. Reginald was the star. The “Crustacean Sensation” wasn’t a seafood joint—it was a mobile aquarium experience. People paid twenty bucks to sit on milk crates, eat stale popcorn, and watch Reginald, a brilliant blue ghost shrimp the size of a thumb, navigate a tiny, intricate castle diorama. Reginald was an artist. He rearranged his gravel. He posed under the tiny plastic arch. He was, unironically, a genius. Tanked

“Because you’re the only person I know who has a key to the storm drain system,” Barn whispered. “Chet keeps his backup lobster tank in the basement of The Gilded Grouper. The drain access is right outside. I need you to let me in.” “Freeze, shrimp-napper

“Actually,” said a new voice, “we heard about the kidnapping.” Reginald was the star

Two actual police officers were standing at the top of the basement stairs, flashlights in hand. One of them was holding the ransom napkin in an evidence bag.

Barn watched Reginald perform a perfect, slow-motion backflip off the plastic arch. “Most people don’t have a shrimp with a better agent than they do.”

“I know,” he said, and for the first time all day, he smiled. “But I’m weird with a very expensive, very brilliant shrimp.”