It all started in 1976, when Mary, who had the first nasty case of crustacean-aids, slept with Jim. Jim went to the doctor, and the doctor was alit with wonder when he peered upon these tiny life forms wriggling in Jims mound of pubic hair.

"These are not normal crabs!" cried the doctor, hurridly grabbing a sample and jotting down some squiggles in his doctor diary.

The doctor told Jim he'd contact him in two weeks.

"I'll contact you in two weeks.

Two weeks later, Jim had developed what looked like coral; the crustacean-aids had built a crustacean home.

When Jim went back in to see the doctor, the doctor had grave news for Jim.

There was no known cure.

The doctor had published a journal of his discoveries.

"The crustacean-aids appear to be similar to the well-known pubic lice of this generation, but they are much worse. They smoke cigarettes and fornicate often.. They even have a cheerleading squad. Soon I reckon they'll infect us all."

And they did.

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