The Bright Star of Maine Law

Two villains did their work in shadows long and deep. One, tall and fat, was hauling in nets from an ocean lapping against the rocky shore like a parched man. On that moonless night, the water was dark as their purpose. The darkness hid the other's ugly face, standing to one side. "You're sure this'll be worth it," Tall and Fat growled.

"Oh, yeah," said Ugly. "This'll be a good haul."

"Help me, yeah?"

"Nope," said Ugly. "You're the hauler." A cocking gun menaced the night. "I'm the danger."

"Fine," grumbled TF.

"It's okay," said a new voice, smooth as butter, "I'll help." Ugly shattered the night's calm with gunshots. Powder in the air, he shook a flashlight into life and revealed a heavy coat and hat slumped against a tree.

"Got 'im," said Ugly, turning to TF. In the flashlight's beam, the figure stood.

"Not so fast." The clothes fell, revealing a reddish-brown carapace, several antennae, and a shining sheriff's star.

"Lobstar!" shouted TF, dropping his net and raising his hands.

"I'm not going back!" cried Ugly. He raised his gun, but Lobstar caught it in his unyielding pincer.

"Nice try, boys, but I'm not fishing catch and release."