Monday, July 22, 2013

The Death of Butterboy Bob

The Death of Butterboy Bob

I am an admitted seafood addict.  Shrimp, Crab, scallops,  freshwater fish and especially lobster are the ultimate I fishy fare for moi!  My one son, whom I visit quite often, knows all too well my favorite foods, desserts (ah yes, crème brulée), even wine, and loads the usually spare fridge (he’s a bachelor), with my favorites at each visit.
            Sadly, he neglected to supply me with the ultimate gourmet of gastronomics on my last two visits – live lobster, and vowed to make amends.  On a surprise visit this past weekend, this wonderful, thoughtful and crazy son carried I three huge bags of groceries  and dared me to open them.  Standing there with the most mischievous grin on his face, he watched as I unwrapped cold cuts, pastries, shrimp, rye bread etc.  The last one however, had the strangest shape.  I don’t know which was louder, my shriek or the gales of laughter from my son. 
Lo and behold, there was this poor unfortunate sea creature, Butterboy Bob, as my son named him, wriggling around the plastic bag with huge rubber-band-held claws,  horrid looking eyes,, tongue and antenna -destined for an untimely death. I was then subjected to the famous reminder, “If you teach a man to fish…”  He, also, in his former Lieutenant-Colonel voice stated, “I’m going to teach you to cook your own lobster, so you can do it on your own”.  (or did it sound more like a general?)
Later on, carrying this black  mini sea urchin to  a pot of boiling water (with my bare hands), and posed for a picture to preserve this momentous occasion.  All of a sudden, ‘Bob’ whacked me with his tail. I screamed and flung him into the waiting bubbling waters.  No, he didn't scream, but I’m sure  I heard a faint voice saying, “I’m dying of this heat”. 
Fifteen minutes later, with hammer and screwdriver, we cracked him open, doused him in butter and feasted on this most luscious, long-awaited lunch
Yes, he taught me to “fish” – I’ll have lobster for life.  Au revoir Butterboy Bob.  Bonjour Slippery Sal – my next victim

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