Well, I came to rape and pillage your tank, but much like a dog with "Shy poop" syndrome, I locked up.
Yea, verily, a razor blade is no match for live rock. The rock will wineth and precious flesh will you looseth.
I got the zoas home and stuck them to plugs. The very next day, after realizing they were nolonger in the clutches he-who-shall-not-be-named, did the zoanthids cheer and praise "Barrett, the Barbarian" for his wise trickery and immeasureable bravery in dealing with the short, pale one.
And so the Green's who are not Mean anymore opened their arms to the sun that looks like a straight line among many other straight lines.