So it’s been a long week: twenty-one hour days, short nights, workload building by the hour. I’m pooped, tired, and spent to my last energetic ounce. I need a break. I need sleep.
“Luke San Antonio is celebrating Mardi Gras downtown…just FYI..”
Hmmm…I like Luke.
“…and they have Crawfish..”
Dammit! Such peer pressure. Well, I haven’t slept this long, what’s one more night.
2lbs of Crawfish
As I scrounge around for coffee or something with some kick like a starved scavenger, my Consumption Partner and I jump in the car; begin the journey down the yellow brick road; talk about what we’re going to eat first; hop, skip, and jump a few lanes; and follow the rainbow to the pot of gold.
The minute we walk in, we fire off our first order like a shotgun round, before sitting down as Tim nods his head knowing we would show eventually. “Two pounds of Crawfish please, good sir…”, and as he slowly turns to put in the order, he hesitates as if awaiting something else….“oh yeah, 8 meatpies and 10 oysters as well.” There it is! Order is placed. Drinks are made. The night begins.
Crawfish & Meatpies
We run into a few friends, play a short game of Catch Up until they ask what was ordered, we respond, to where a shocked “You ordered TWO pounds of Crawfish for just you two?!”, dribbled from their mouths. “No, we ordered: two pounds of Crawfish, meatpies, and oysters..”, we responded proudly, “and all will suffer the same fate…leave no P.O.W behind!”
Thirty seconds after the prophecy was stated, the first two orders of victims were delivered. We said our good-byes and entered Consumption Ninjas mode for the unfair battle that was about to partake. As my Consumption and I adjusted ourselves, gained stable footing, stretched and cracked our knuckles, we gave one another a mental “high-five” and allowed the massacre to begin.
Extinct 2lbs of Crawfish
Shells snap, tails brake, and juices flow as handicapped claws and antennae lay across the battlefield scattered from their initial host, never to return to themselves again. “These are good!”….”Uh-huh”, is the only communication as Operation: Desecration is underway. Other than that, there’s only radio silence.
Time passes. No compassion is felt. Regret is only a word in the dictionary. Battle One is won. “…and I have an order of 10 Oysters here for you both”, Tim announces. Oh yeah…Battle Two…..Vic-tor-ious!
Extinct Oysters
As the dust settles, piles of bodies lay as the aftermath, and we increase the stock price of napkins, Tim collects the caskets of plates and bowls with no excitement or surprise to the WTH Just Happened session that just took place. Instead he says, “Have ya’ll tried the Hurricanes with our barreled Rum?”, as a slight smile crawls across his face.
“Hurricanes with barreled rum, huh? Hmmm…”, a quick look to my battle partner, a nod is given, “…Sure, let’s get two of those!”
And in that my friends, lies yet, another story…
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