The Lobster Boy
This is a story that is very close to my own heart. Mostly because this story is such a great conversation piece at parties. Also because my own life has closely mirrored that of the lobster boy. We were both born in Pittsburgh and we both moved to Florida. I love water and he must have, he was the lobster boy for fuck’s sake. That’s where the comparisons end. Ok, so maybe our lives aren’t so much a mirror, as a slightly reflective surface…. like brushed stainless steel.
Grady Stiles Jr. was born in 1937 (ironically a great year for burgundy, which goes great with lobster) in Pgh PA with a condition known as ectrodactyly, or more commonly referred to as lobster syndrome. With ectrodactyly the hands and feet appear to the entire world to be lobster pincers. The Stiles clan came from a long line of crustaceans as Grady’s great, great grandfather ‘Rock’ crawled from the sea to begin living on land.
This is not choice DNA to begin with. Because it tastes so good, people often forget that lobsters are bottom feeders. They are the rats of the ocean. I know that if I had to be descended directly from sea life, I’d want to come from the Emperor Angelfish or the California Smoothtongue; that thing could charm the skirt right off of a Yellowfin Tuna. If I had to come from a crustacean it would at least be something noble like the King Crab.
When Grady was a young boy the family moved to Gibsonton Florida, where they all preformed as a sideshow attraction called The Lobster Family. Gibsonton was, and still is a town devoted almost entirely to carnies and freaks. It was a rough place to grow up, and even today the police are loathe to even enter it. They never know when the bearded lady is going to run through the streets naked, or the knife throwing midgets are going to go on a meth binge. But even among ‘America’s untouchables’ young Grady was ostracized and picked on.
During his senior year, which was the 5th grade at Gibsonton High, he was voted prom king as a cruel joke. After Grady skittered up onstage, his classmates dumped buckets of melted butter on him from the rafters. Although he was unable to produce a massacre like you might expect, he knew right then and there that he wanted to kill. And kill he eventually did.
To dull the gripping pain of his tragic life he began abusing alcohol and drugs. Even in that world he wasn’t spared humiliation. Every time he tried to buy an ounce of weed, the dealers would ask if he was sure he didn’t just want a pinch. Then they would laugh and laugh before lapsing into a coughing fit. I’m not sure how Grady could roll a joint, but he was probably a master at snipping the twisty ends.
Unfortunately, overindulgence in alcohol and the Florida sun gave Stiles a pure crimson completion, further driving him into isolation. Even after a specialty wheelchair became available, he preferred to skitter about on his claw-like appendages. He was able to move very rapidly and quickly built amazing upper body strength after scoring some steroids off of the circus strongmen. As he fell deeper into the bottle he became angrier and more aggressive everyday. If he saw anyone point at him and laugh, the little fucker would scuttle over to them and viciously nip at their heels, yipping like a drunken terrier.
Surprisingly he married twice, and when he had his first child he vowed to turn his life around. But in a moment of parental exuberance he became over-excited by his daughter cuteness and pinched her cheeks. 27 stitches and two visits from Child Protective Services later, he was drinking again. He became an extremely violent and abusive husband and father, and ruled the family with a vice like grip.
On the night before his daughters wedding, Grady killed her fiancé in a drunken rage. After shooting the boy, he crawled on top of him and fed for hours until police could finally be coaxed into the neighborhood. A very sated and bloated man, he fully confessed to the crime. He was found guilty of first degree murder, but since no prison in the state had the facilities to handle his disability, he was only sentenced to 15 years probation.
After an obvious divorce and a ridiculous remarriage, Grady was right back to his old ways of drinking and boiling over with anger. After waking up for the 27th morning in a row with unbelievably sore nipples, Grady’s new wife Mary Teresa decided that she’d had enough. So she did what any normal, trailer park side show freak would do and hired another side-show freak to whack Stiles out for $1500. It is unclear whether a pizza also changed hands, as one did in the Graziano murder a few years later.
On November 29, 1992 Grady Stiles was shot three times in the head while sitting in his living room watching Deadliest Catch. Mary Stiles was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to 12 years. Christopher Wyant and a third man, Harry Newman, who was supposed to prepare the garnish, were both found guilty of murder and sentenced to life in prison. This was the first murder trial where the ‘battered women’s syndrome’ defense was used.
They should have allowed all three to go free and enjoy some nice bisque.
