The Lobster Incident

Today, our second installment of Blog-Swap-O-Rama. Mo "Mad Dog" Stoneskin is in the hizzouse, blognut is at his place, and I'm terrorizing entertaining the troops over at blognut's. At least, I think that's right. Please make the rounds as we each tell you our recollection of The Lobster Incident.

I arrived at the restaurant early. I expected Blognut and Cate to be late and wanted to make sure our table was booked. Some half-wit had double-booked our table. "I can't believe you have let this happen," I scolded the manager, "we're famous writers, not farmhands!" I fumed, stuffing my hands into my dungaree pockets and chewing furiously on a piece of straw.

Blognut arrived dragging a crate of Diet Pepsi. "Can't trust anyone these days," she explained, shaking her head ruefully. The manager was not impressed. "You can't bring that in here," he said. "There's nothing saying that in writing," Blognut retorted, "and besides, what kind of restaurant does not provide Diet Pepsi as a soft drink option?"

Cate arrived a few minutes later with her cat riding in her purse. I forget its name, Tabitha, Tootles, Tulip, Tumbleweed, Tonya that's it, Tonya looked a little cramped. "What's that doing in here?" growled the manager. "That is Tonya," grumbled Cate, "and she has every right to be here. In the name of common decency and equality why should humans be allowed in a restaurant but animals banned? And besides, the sign on the door makes no mention of cats, it just says "No dogs except for blind dogs". I pointed out that a blind dog wouldn't be able to read the sign anyway but nobody was amused.

The sound of scratching echoed round the restaurant. Tonya was attacking a microphone on the stage. "Get that cat off the microphone," roared the manager. Apart from a few violent altercations with an elderly gentleman's beard Tonya behaved herself for the remaining ten minutes that we were in the restaurant.

"What shall we get to drink?" I asked the girls. "Whatever is cheap," said Cate. "Anything under five dollars" expounded Blognut. "Treat's on me," I said generously, "pass me the wine list."

We decided to share a seafood platter which featured a huge lobster. The waiter that brought it lost his balance. A one-legged mouse suffering from severe vertigo would have done a better job. We were buried under an avalanche of lobster, oysters, wine and Diet Pepsi. "My Pepsi!" screamed Blognut. "Tonya!" screamed Cate. "Get off my beard!" screamed the elderly gentleman.

Cate and Blognut each ripped off a lobster claw and attacked the waiter in a brutal display of customised-by-lobster-claw kung-fu. I grabbed the rest of the lobster and took decisive action against the manager. The elderly gentleman was rolling about on the floor grappling with Tonya.

We made a swift exit and leaped into a cab. "Where now?" I asked. "Starbucks?" suggested Blognut. "Tonya wants to go home," said Cate.