"Socks," First Aid Kitten Fluff hisses, flattened behind a fallen hunk of rubble, "I'm still not sure ooze racism is a thing, but can you please stop forcing me to suspect it is—"

"Ooze King's got pincers!" Socks wails, from under a nearby car. "He's got legs!"

"You can't just go that's not an ooze, that's a crab—"

"Crab is a form factor!" Sandy yells helpfully from — wherever Sandy landed. "Like tree! Carcinisation is an observation about the parallel evolutionary emergence of maximally practical physical structures—"

"Stop helping!" Fluff and Socks yell at her, together.

Who will be the one to make the One Post?

Erica rolled over as the morning sun hit her face. She expected to sink blissfully back into her goolfriend, but instead hit a hard, rubbery outer shell. She sleepily protested as she levered her eyes open to took at Gleria. "Baaaabe..."

"Sorry, Love," said Gleria, whose phone was currently floating inside her charcoal-tinted spherical mass and texting furiously. "Bad news from work, gotta respond." She stretched out of bed and extended a handful of pseudopods to skitter upstairs to her office, still writing the response of per my last email.

Erica blinked from the waterproof bed as her goolfriend vanished. "I'll make breakfast for us, okay?" she called.

Crab-run goo_n