The barnacles were the last to arrive to the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance.
They were dressed to impress: pleated slacks, black bow ties, and pleather jackets. They wore abalone helmets shaped like Saturn —rings included. Mother of pearl fishhooks pierced their delicate ears. And their shoes shined like a full moon on the waves.
The other partygoers were divided into two camps: Those who admired the barnacles’ bodaciousness and those who found them to be akin to cheap and tawdry driftwood.
The admirers quickly jumped ship to team two as the barnacles threw decorum and propriety to the neap tides and latched onto everything in sight as barnacles tend to do.
The hostess weeped as the barnacles slowly munched on whatever they had latched onto. She tried to pry them off, but nothing doing. They were there to stay.
The barnacles were never invited to another party ever again.