I’m planning a crab boil for some friends on the 4th of July, so I needed a test run. There is only one place to buy live crabs around here, and this is at ______ seafoood.
_____ Seafood presents me with a real conundrum, as it’s a really bad place and its name rhymes with “Rockpucker.” The guy that runs the place is a real asshole too. It lends itself to a particularly apt perjorative.
Normally, I would claim poetic license and go with the obvious, but in this instance the place is so vile and horrible that I feel any offense taken by some at the use of the term would be justified.
In fact, calling the guy an “asshole” is kind of an insult to assholes everywhere.
The place is kind of in a class by itself, so it will henceforth be known in this thread as “Perjorative Seafood.”
Perjorative Seafood is a filthy dive bar in the worst part of the next town south of the border. It has cockroaches. usually I have no problem with filthy dive bars, and seafood joints, but this place really takes it to anothe level. I am much less than fastidious but the joint makes my skin crawl.
The whole place smells like rotten fish. The proprietor literally is an enormous fat guy in a white gravy-stained tshirt that looks like it hasn’t been changed in a week. He’s rude. He has self-aggrandizing pictures all over the place showing that he was in the service during the war of 1812 or somesuch.
The potato salad on display literally had a skin on it, beneath the flies.
I exagerrate not. It’s that bad. In fact, it’s a parody of a bad place. If you saw it in a movie you woult think it over the top and unrealistic in its filth.
But they have the only live crabs around.
So I go there, and deal with the jerk, and stress that I want “live crabs,” and I carefully check to make sure he doesn’t sneak dead ones in there.
I figure I’m safe because crabs basically live in filth, and as long as they’re alive I should be ok.
I take them home, and some friends come over and we cook them, and they are good, and much beer is consumed.
Then of course comes the crab-dueling, where we fight each other with live crabs and it’s not too much later that somebody pulls out my waistband and sticks a live crab in my ass.
A couple of hours later and it still hurts. Damn crabs.
