They reach 20 cm (8 in) in length and every inch is covered in purple and neon bright stripes. They look like they had an accident with a barrel of radioactive ooze and now their skeleton glows in the dark.
This species lives in groups made up mostly of females, and they dash around the coral reefs seeking out algae, worms and crustaceans to feed on.
We usually think of jellyfish as mysterious, ethereal entities that drift on the ocean currents with about as much purpose as a leaf in the wind. Their cascading trail of venomous tentacles may capture prey and sting the unwary, but it hardly seems like the jellyfish's intention. The jellyfish merely flexes what little muscle it has in rhythmic meditation, and what events may occur around them is a subject of profound indifference.
They're like phantoms and ghosts who exist in an invisible realm of darkness and void. They go about their repetitive business, completely unaware of the fact that we can see them or that their actions have consequences on the rest of us.
What has happened? What nematode, trematode, parasite or poison could have caused this? What curse from the gods? What pesticide has gone wrong in an ironic way so as to teach us all a valuable lesson?
The Pink Knight's keen, chemosensory tube-feet are ablaze with the foul odour of a distant alarm response.
"A fellow being in distress!" he murmurs, body trembling in moral indignation. Due to the superheroically gelatinous consistency of his crime-fighting flesh, his body continues to tremble for a long time.
It's a worm that looks kinda like a peanut sometimes. They pretty much always look like internal organs, though. Which is odd because they don't actually have all that many internal organs of their own.