Work Text:
The life of a coconut was said to be nasty, brutish, and short. The life of a coconorphan, even more so. Nutty, the young lad, dropped as he was on the ground, waiting for the past three days, was soon to meet the end of meaningless existence, his family already all gone, whatever parents he had had were either long dead, scrapped for drinks, a garnish or a severed head bra, or a tree, the cosmically horrifying implications of which he was not yet prepared to handle.
But now, Nutty faced his worst enemy yet. A coconut crab. The hulking, shellfish beast’s horrifying mauling claws framed the beady eyes set on him.
Nutty was a coconut. He had no muscles. He had no limbs. No escape.
Unless…
As the crab bore down on his soon to be departed soul, an ancient saying offered itself, a primeval insight beyond fruit understanding, beyond instinct, beyond even soul itself.
“Limbs are but a decoration. Movement is an acclimation of the soul!”
The wisdom burst from deep inside the coconut, desperation meeting with the mettle of a thoughtful mind, and from the universe itself he pulled The Roll.
The echoes of a thousand coconuts before Nutty cried out in pride, rage, and revenge, as Nutty ripped himself from his place in existence and fired, faster than perception itself, into the murderer’s massive claw, shattering the shell of the shellfish beast.
The beast cringed, but it was not enough. That crab was fate. That crab was the crushing weight of the universe. The cruelest of inescapable ideas bearing down on the desperate and vulnerable.
“FATE DIES HERE!”
Nutty spun. He rolled. He violently twirled and ground the atoms of the universe itself as he created a searing heat against the grains of the air before…
The crab’s outer shell of bones flew away, exposing the freshly cooked flesh from underneath.
No not would fall to this monster anymore.
Nutty struck again, again, and again, and after one more final blow, the beast was dead.
Long live the child of trees