Crab models are courtesy of my daughter, who is in on the conspiracy.
Belvin was a philosopher and a mensch and was schooled in the ways of Sartre and Rand. Nivleb was an engineer who had graduated from a school in the Southwest Conference and was considered to be both devious and shallow by his peer crab philosophers and fellow introspective navelgazing bits of invertebrate sea life.
One day Belvin and Nivleb were walking, and Nivleb suggested that they pop down to a local eatery for lattes. Belvin, incensed that a gustatory decision had apparently been made without his consultation or vote, condemned Nivleb for being an antidemocratic secondhander, a tyrant, a conspirator to smear his name and standing among his peers, a slave to subjectivist despotic ideals, a communist, a street-thug, an idea thief, a mystic of muscle and spirit, an evil presence determined to destroy all freedom, and an obvious agent for the local Society of Crabs, which had ejected Belvin from their ranks a year earlier leaving mental wounds from which Belvin had apparently not yet healed.
Nivleb then said "Holy effing shite you are one scaryass pile of randian damaged goods, Belvin!" and suggested that they go their separate ways (read: Nivleb was so eager to get away that he was gonna leave skid-marks).
And Belvin then was left without Nivleb, so he signed up with a corporation that would freeze him with the understanding that he would be thawed out sometime in the future when technology was such that crabs could be nanotechnologically altered to walk straight rather than sideways, in defiance of their mothers as mentioned in more canonical fables.
Belvin was then willingly frozen and was shipped to a Red Lobster restaurant in Florida where he was then eaten as part of a "bucket o crablegs" special.
The moral: If a person gives you a wacky vibe early on, it's probably best to listen to it and avoid that person.
