My Wife Had Crabs

Not that type of crabs. Pervert.  I'm talking about the seafood. It should be noted that we saw our Game Night Friends on Friday. It was an impromptu meeting, as we thought we were going to be launching our website. Instead, my wife prepared a crab dinner for everyone. I'll tell you, though, there was a problem. She bought live crab. Not only were they alive, but she put them in the fridge to kill them. As it turns out, they did not die. Nay, they chose to link arms/claws in a sign of solidarity and protest. That's right. Five (5) crabs were staging a sit-in.

So what did we do? We Googled how to kill crabs. As it turns out, the most humane way to kill a crab is to lobotomize it. You take a screw driver and crack the crab in the top and bottom of the shell. Evidently that neutralizes the nerves so that the crab doesn't feel pain when you flash-boil it. Or, if you don't have enough orange juice for a screwdriver, you just boil the suckers. Of course, while we figured all this out, a few of us started to get into the moment.

Tod-d names one of the crabs Jack, after Jack Daniels. I named on Rhonda. And I think a third was named Steve. The other two were unnamed extras. My wife gave Tod-d and I a look of disgust, and promptly explained, "Al the crabs are girls. What girl is named Steve? Or Jack? The fuck's wrong with you?" I immediately mentioned Stevie Nicks, while Tod-d mentioned that Jack could be short for Jacqueline.

My wife's response:

Of course, this was around the time that my wife came in to say farewell to the crabs, and thank them for their service. That also happened to be 10 minutes before we got the water to boil. I joked that it would be like going up to someone diagnosed with a terminal disease and offering to help them into the grave. Sure, they may not have a long life to live, but that doesn't mean they are ready to be buried right away. 

(Okay. Technically I said it was like finding out that someone has cancer and then thanking them for willing their Walkman to you. And technically I think I am still going to hell. At the same time, there is a problem when the Jew, who cannot eat crab, is the one responsible for killing and preparing crab.) 

Even so, everything was fine until the crabs got near the water. Little known fact: Crabs will projectile launch their limbs as a defense mechanism. I had to use two sets of tongs to grab the rally chain and move them to the water. As soon as the steam hit one, limbs were flying everywhere. Somehow, one managed to launch their claw and pin one of the tongs to another burner. It was like Jack had laid down the block, "GO! GO! I've pinned his metal pincher!! Run, Steve! Run!" 

Steve is sitting over there, like, "I can't! I shot my legs as a diversion! I ain't got no legs!"

Meanwhile, Rhonda landed in the water. Her sacrifice would be in vein. And yes I misspelled vain. And yes, I am planning to reference the word-play. What word play? The fact that someone ate Rhonda, digested her, and the nutrients were transported through the circulatory system. And yes, I know that it works differently. And no, I don't care. Fuck you. SCIENCE!

Moral of the Story: My wife ate crab, and I'm probably going to hell for my joke. 

(It was this day)