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.
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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