The Claws Clause
“This meeting will now come to order,” rang the official tone of the Magistrate, accompanied by the percussive tones of the gavel which had been handed down for uncounted generations. “All attendants will now take their seats.”
It took another handful of minutes while the attendees shuffled and scurried towards the available seating. Eventually, however, they were seated and a gradual hush fell over the chamber.
The magistrate looked over the assembly, satisfied. Getting this many individuals to shut their pie holes for more than a minute at a time had become a herculean task, but they were getting trained. Or at least they seemed to be. “Seemed to be” would have to suffice.
“Very well. We therefore open this 197th council of Beasts, called to order and prepared to address old business and new. Let they who have issues to be addressed take to the podium and your concerns will be heard.”
Another murmur from the crowd grew quickly to an audible clamor, and the Magistrate held their hand above the gavel, prompting a quick hush to again permeate the assemblage. Eventually, one individual shuffled forward, pausing while the microphone was lowered to within reach of their mouth.
“I am named Carl Greatclaw, and I represent the Crustacean Crusade,” he began. “Too long have me and my kind suffered at the talons of the Supercolony of Seagulls….”
“WE ARE CALLED THE GULLS!” came the inevitable protest from a gull at the back of the room, “and this is anti-avian propaganda!”
“ORDER!” rapped the Magistrate. “You will have your chance to offer your rebuttal.” The gull reluctantly took his seat and the Magistrate motioned for Carl to continue.
“Thank you, your honor,” Carl said softly. “For aeons, the gulls have feasted upon our kind in our places of sanctuary as we have fed, bathed and… continued our species. Our shells litter the beaches of the world, and yet none have raised hand, wing or claw to come to our aid. And where we are not shattered by the talons of the gulls, we are boxed and boiled at the hand of mankind. We crawl at the brink of extinction. Who will come to our aid?”
There was scattered applause as Carl walked sideways back to his seat.
The magistrate allowed for the room to reclaim its somber silence before gesturing for the gull to step to the podium. With a distracting flourish of its wings, the gull hopped to the microphone, sending many of the seated attendants to scurry in a mad dash as instincts superseded decorum.
The magistrate’s gavel struck the wooden sounding block as he called the room once again to order. “I will ask the attendees to refrain from flapping or otherwise assuming a predatory posture,” he barked. The gull bowed his head respectfully.
“I ask the Magistrate’s pardon,” he said. “Flight comes as naturally to my kind as walking sideways does to the crabs.”
“CRUSTACEANS,” came the angry response.
“My apologies, of course,” muttered the gull. “But as I was going to say, we require sustenance as a species, and is it our fault that the organic interior of the crustaceans so perfectly caters to our biological requirements? We can only feed off the discarded edibles of humanity for so long before we yearn for truly sustainable content. The rise of the GMOs will see our rapid decline if we refrain from devouring our shelled and… dare I say it, delicious neighbors.” The gull side-eyed the crab, licking its bill hungrily.
“The attendant will refrain from visibly sizing up the crustacean,” came the magistrate’s warning.
“Again, my apologies,” said the gull. “We will try to reduce our consumption of the crustaceans, if they….” he said a few more words but they were too soft to be picked up by the microphone, and the Magistrate asked him to repeat them.
“...if they stop being so DELICIOUS!”, the gull cawed and with that leapt from the podium and flew directly towards Carl.
“BAILIFFS!”, the Magistrate yelled, slamming the gavel once again on the block. Two crows jumped in front of the gull while a large black and white tomcat pounced behind the gull and wrestled it to the floor. Between the three of them, they dragged the gull back outside, where its plaintive caws could be heard for several more minutes.
When the crows and feline returned, there was no sign of the gull, but a small spot of blood was visible beside the cat’s jaws. No further word needed to be said, and the Magistrate trusted that the rest of the session might pass without incident.
“Very well. Let’s move on, shall we? Who else has issues to be brought before our ears?”
The magistrate peered its rotating head around until all assembled were taken by its gaze. Authority and wisdom was theirs; but as the tallest of the citizens of Caw and Claw, the mighty Owl knew that the gavel only held as much authority as respect and fear would summon. Order must be maintained.
The owl raised himself up to his full height, repeating his question. “Who?”