Lobster Man II: Mombo from Mars

TruTraTri Week 1 — Transmission Two The specimen had awakened. After the 4-day germination, the young Gorilla Zkittlez Fast entered its first week under Martian observation. “Report, Mombo.” “It remains alive, Master.” “Excellent.” “It has done nothing else.” “Then it is waiting.” The slightly stretched specimen stood unchanged in its chamber while the machines hummed and Mombo tried to look important. Mombo checked the atmospheric readouts, confused by the wild fluctuations of this strange blue planet. “Temperature range detected, Master… minimum 4, maximum 25… average 14.” The Lobster Man narrowed his eyes. “Unstable climate… unpredictable conditions… perfect for concealment.” Mombo nodded, though he clearly had no idea what that meant. _____________________________________________________________________________ “Then we must go to Earth!” — Lobster Man from Mars

TruTraTri ### Week 2 — Transmission Three The order came without warning. “Move the specimen.” Mombo obeyed. The **Gorilla Zkittlez Fast** was transferred into a **1-gallon pot** — a larger containment unit for the growing Earth specimen. The operation was slow, careful, and unnecessarily dramatic. The Lobster Man observed from the shadows. “It lives?” “Yes, Master.” “Good.” The specimen settled into its new chamber. More room. More silence. More opportunity for the kind of Martian plan that looked impressive only because the lights were pointed upward. Mombo stood guard beside the containment unit, waiting for a reaction. The plant gave him nothing. So Mombo wrote down: **transfer successful**. The Lobster Man accepted the report with the cold patience of a creature whose entire strategy depended on cheap equipment, Earth air, and one strangely important green specimen. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________ “If we don’t get air soon, Mars is finished!” — *Lobster Man from Mars*

TruTraTri ### Week 3 — Suspicious Silence Mombo stood beside the **Gorilla Zkittlez Fast** containment vessel all week, holding a clipboard he still couldn’t read. The specimen stayed stable.n That bothered him. At night, the chamber readings dropped to near-freezing levels — a creeping Earth phenomenon Mombo logged as **“frost intrusion.”** He pressed his helmet closer to the glass, half expecting the specimen to shiver or protest. It did neither. Inside the command chamber, the Lobster Man slowly turned a dial that clearly did nothing. “Report.” “It is calm, Master.” “Too calm?” Mombo stared at the plant. “It might be planning something.” The Lobster Man paused, considering this with great seriousness. “Good. Then we are ahead of it.” Mombo nodded, because on Mars it was safer to agree than to understand. They remained at their posts. The 1-gallon chamber sat quietly, humming under flickering lights while the mission continued exactly as planned — or at least exactly as it looked on paper. At the end of the week, Mombo filed the report: **Specimen stable. Mission continues.** ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “Lobster Man, we got a big problem. Mars is dying.” — King of Mars

TruTraTri ### Week 4 — The Apical Incident The Earth weather began acting like a badly written supporting character. By night, it still crept in cold and suspicious. By day, it had grown warmer, almost friendly — which made Mombo trust it even less. This week, the **Gorilla Zkittlez Fast** specimen was officially measured for the first time. **23 cm.** Mombo stared at the number. Then he stared at the plant. Then he stared at the number again, in case Earth mathematics had changed while he was blinking. “Master,” he reported, “the specimen is gaining vertical ambition.” The Lobster Man turned slowly in his throne of painted cardboard and red bulbs. “Vertical ambition becomes rebellion.” Mombo nodded. He did not know if that was science, politics, or lunch. To prevent the Earth treasure from becoming too tall for its containment plan, the tip of the plant was lightly cut — a small **apical nick**, too modest to be called topping, too uncertain to be called FIM, but dramatic enough for Mombo to log it as: **CONTROL EXPERIMENT: SIDEWAYS DESTINY** The idea was simple, at least on paper: discourage the specimen from reaching too far upward and maybe persuade it to grow broader instead. The plant gave no statement. Mombo took that as cooperation. In the royal chamber, the Lobster Man clicked one claw against the console. “If it grows wide,” he said, “it can carry more flavor.” Mombo wrote that down immediately. Outside the chamber, the cheap stars wobbled on visible strings. Inside, the specimen stood at **23 cm**, slightly wounded at the top, possibly offended, possibly inspired, and now part of a Martian plan that was becoming less scientific by the hour. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “Of course, it all makes perfect sense!” — *Lobster Man from Mars*

TruTraTri ### Week 5 — The Pressure Method The chamber warmed, and the **Gorilla Zkittlez Fast** responded with strong growth. “Master… the specimen is rising again.” A pause. Then the Lobster Man’s voice: “Everything on Earth rises before it becomes a problem.” Mombo blinked. “That sounds like a problem already.” “Exactly.” He approached the plant and applied a careful **pinch and twist** — not enough to break, just enough to soften the stem. “You are being redirected,” he muttered. “You are altering its structure,” the Lobster Man said. “I am applying pressure.” “…acceptable.” Mombo stepped back. The plant stood unchanged, but something beneath had shifted. He updated the log: **PRESSURE METHOD — STRUCTURAL ADJUSTMENT** ___________________________________________________________________________________________________ “Of course, it all makes perfect sense!” — Professor Plocostomos

TruTraTri *-10 cm in new pot and future weeks (Transplantation) ### Week 6 — Landing Procedure The heat backed away just enough for the mission to stop feeling like a cooking demonstration. Mombo received the order in the usual way: one red bulb, one useless dial, and the Lobster Man’s voice crackling through a speaker that smelled faintly of burnt wires. “Prepare final containment.” The **Gorilla Zkittlez Fast** was moved into its final vessel: the **AutoPot**. To Mombo, this was no longer a simple transplant. This was landing procedure. The specimen was lowered deeper into the new chamber, hiding part of its previous height below the surface like a Martian secret buried in Earth soil. When Mombo stepped back, the plant looked shorter, steadier, and far more suspicious. (50cm before, 40 cm after transplantation) “It has descended,” he reported. “It has infiltrated,” said the Lobster Man. Mombo considered this. It sounded better than “repotted,” so he wrote it down. With the final vessel secured, Mombo began a little **LST**, gently guiding the specimen outward instead of upward. The official reason was structural control: keep it broad, open, and less likely to become a dark, crowded swamp later in the mission. The Lobster Man approved. “A wide specimen catches more Earth flavor.” “That is science?” “That is authority.” Mombo tightened the last restraint and stared at the green treasure. It had entered its final chamber. It had been set deeper. Its shape was now being guided sideways by Martian hands and questionable logic. The mission had changed. They were no longer merely watching the specimen grow. They were preparing it for the signal. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ “It’s all very simple! Bunny men from Neptune have invaded Mars!” — Mary,

TruTraTri ### Week 7 — The Wrong Map The **Gorilla Zkittlez Fast** kept reaching upward. Mombo reported it as an escape attempt. “Then redirect the route,” ordered the Lobster Man. So Mombo used the old **pinch and twist** and a little **LST**, not as gardening, but as navigation. Each bent line became part of a landing map only Martians could misunderstand. By the end of the week, the specimen stood wider and lower. Mombo stared at it. “It looks like a trap.” The Lobster Man leaned closer to the screen. “No, Mombo. It looks like directions.” Somewhere on Mars, the invasion committee cheered too early. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “No, not interested.” — The Dreaded Lobster Man

TruTraTri ### Week 8 — The Moving Map The Earth air turned warm and dry, and the **Gorilla Zkittlez Fast** began to move like the map itself was alive. Mombo had tied down the route last week. By morning, the route had changed. “Master,” he whispered into the transmitter, “the landing pattern is expanding again.” The Lobster Man studied the screen. “Then the specimen is not showing us where to land.” Mombo blinked inside his helmet. “What is it showing us?” The Lobster Man raised one claw. “Where not to get lost.” That sounded important enough, so Mombo believed it. He returned to the chamber and performed another careful **pinch and twist**, followed by more **LST**, not to punish the plant, but to keep the strange green map open. Every branch became a direction. Every bend became a warning. Every new stretch looked like the specimen was quietly redrawing the mission. By the end of the week, Mombo stood before the wide green pattern and lowered his voice. “It is still growing.” The Lobster Man answered from the speaker. “Good. Then the map is not finished.” Somewhere above Earth, the saucer waited. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “But Lobster Man, there will be plenty of tasty, soft food units to be eaten there.” — King of Mars, *Lobster Man from Mars*

TruTraTri ### Week 9 — Heat Haze Landing Earth shimmered under a brutal heat wave. The saucer came down through the glare like a tin miracle, wobbling between two painted clouds and a very serious sound effect. Mombo climbed out first, helmet fogged, clipboard bent from the heat. Behind him, the Lobster Man stepped into the haze and stared at the **Gorilla Zkittlez Fast**. The specimen had pushed through the heat and kept expanding its strange green signal. “It grew through this?” Mombo asked. The Lobster Man raised one claw. “Then it has chosen Earth.” Mombo moved through the chamber with unusual care, clearing a little shadow from the structure and applying another controlled **stem pinch** where the signal tried to climb too freely. The plant shifted under the Martian adjustment and held its shape. For a moment, the whole scene went silent except for the humming AutoPot, the rattling saucer, and the cheap orchestra swelling from nowhere. Mombo looked at the widening green pattern. “It’s marking the landing zone.” The Lobster Man leaned closer. “Then bring the equipment. We start here.” _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “I’m commanding you to go where there is plenty of air...” — King of Mars

TruTraTri Notes: - not sure about the preflower - If you go from picture 3 to 4 you have to imagine the sound of "Jaws" when something is in the water😜😂* - bats everywhere! Reality and all the diaries! - It's a real thing, the movie has some creatures, looking like bats, flying around (s. picture). They are flying alien sea cucumbers from Mars! A very smart and intelligent (not to mention) male! scientist said so. Or the fisherman I am not quite sure anymore... I have to watch the movie again ### Week 10 — The Cucumber Bats The heat stayed over the landing site, heavy enough to make every cheap Martian instrument sweat. Mombo sat beside the **Gorilla Zkittlez Fast** with a fogged helmet and a receiver full of static. The plant held its wide shape in the warm air, quiet and strange. Then something fluttered behind the saucer. Three green things came out of the haze: cucumber bodies, little bat wings, faces like bad laboratory decisions. **Space Bats.** They circled the AutoPot in crooked loops, clicking above the leaves as if they had been called by something Mombo could not hear yet. Then he saw it. A first small sign in the green structure. **Preflower suspected.** The Space Bats grew louder at once. One landed on the saucer antenna and tapped it with its ridiculous cucumber head. The lights flickered back. Mombo opened the mission log. **SIGNAL SOURCE AWAKENING** Around him, the Space Bats settled like a tiny alien choir. The Earth treasure had spoken first to the vegetables with wings. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “Gentlemen, what we have here is an intellectual cucumber.” — Professor Plocostomos

TruTraTri ### Week 11 — The Dry Wind Signal The heat stayed, but the sky had changed its voice. A dry wind moved over the landing site like a giant invisible hair dryer, pushing dust across the saucer legs and rattling the cucumber-shaped **Space Bats** from their hiding places. Mombo found three of them clinging upside down beneath the **Gorilla Zkittlez Fast**, squeaking at the young preflower signs like tiny green priests around a forbidden altar. The plant held its wide shape in the hot, dry air. Mombo tightened a few guide-lines and kept the strange map spread open. The signal had to breathe. The branches had to stay apart. The Space Bats clearly agreed, though they expressed it by biting the antenna cable. By sunset, the wind had drawn lines in the dust around the AutoPot. Mombo stared at them for a long time. Then he wrote into the log: **EARTH WIND CONFIRMS LANDING PATTERN** High above, Mars kept leaking air. Down below, the first flavor signal learned how to travel on the wind. ______________________________________________________________________________________________ “You think you can kill an alien space bat with bullets?” — *Lobster Man from Mars*