Sunday, February 23, 2014

Don't Eat Me, Mister Bear

Wednesday night on any cruise seems to always be "Lobster" night. The night when the ship's main dinning room serves up amazing lobster dinners. 

I had been looking forward to this dinner for awhile. Dressing up and having  a formal dinner with the family. My mouth watered as three large lobster tails were gracefully served in front of me. As we began our culinary masterpiece, the table of friends started to discuss the hilarious stories of attempting to cook the pinchie crustations. You know the stories, having lobster races, the screams as they get tossed into the boiling water. 

Within three bites I started to think of what I was eating. An un-lucky lobster that had his dreams and aspirations ripped from his massive and pincher like claws.  Maybe he too had dreams of completing some-sort of nephropidae type of crustacean college. Who was I to take part this this murder? 

I handed my plate to a table mate and ordered another salad. 

After telling this tale of tail to Patrick, this appeared on my cabian door...


3 comments:

BosGuy said...

Love the post and Patrick's mocking cartoon.

Pac said...

I got more propositions while writing on Stevie's cabin door than anywhere else on the ship.

I wrote on Stevie's door a lot.

Blobby said...

I've rarely had lobster, but when the waiter at Morton's showed me Larry Lobster, with his eyes looking at me, I considered buying him and taking him home to live his life out in our bathtub.