I am rather sure I have informed you how I would dispose of you before, Mr. Scordato. How greedy of you.

You would be a difficult. I am unsure how I would be able to pay you proper respect in death. I suppose shelling you could be quite an interesting avenue to explore. Of course, this is under the assumption that I have you incapacitated, so you don’t decide to wriggle out of my grip just as I lever a bot knife under your plates.

I do not think I need to go into lengthy detail as to the exact removal of each and every carapace plate, because I do not believe you to be an idiot. Suffice to say, I promise you tenderness with my touch - as far as I can do so with a blunt knife with a curved blade, I suppose. Somehow, I don’t think shelling you would kill you. I would need something with a little more cut to it for that - use that to slice, to splinter what’s left of the hard coating you used to wear.

Perhaps feeding you that would kill you. Perhaps sliding each sliver down your throat may cause some kind of reaction we might well recognize as death to descend on your body.

I would embalm what is left.
Embalm what remains and set those remains adrift. Was this a spot of homework, I always have the bay. New Orleans is a good looking place - you would have a lovely view of the coast if I let you face in land. I am positive no one would miss one boat that has set a course for Hawaii, and beyond.