ツ If the butcher sniffs it, move on…

I dreamt of lobster the other night. That means I’m missing something in my diet and my body is telling me that whatever I need is in lobster. OK, I’m game so I hit the store and head for the seafood. When I get to the seafood, all I see are five small lobster tails. I ask the butcher if he’s got bigger ones in back and he heads off to check. He returned empty handed and said “These are all I have.” Pointing at the five in the case.

I should have been tipped off that he only had five. I should have really been tipped off after he sniffed the two I asked for.

Needless to say, I grilled them and ate one. It tasted OK, but my God later that night and about half the next day I was so sick, I was somewhat dizzy.

This fiasco reminded me of an old joke.

This woman walks into the butcher shop to purchase a chicken. She tells the butcher she wants the freshest bird he’s got. So, he looks over what he’s got and hand picks on for her. As he’s weighing it and about to wrap it up, she stops him saying “Wait a minute, hand that over to me.”

He does and she proceeds to pinch it, fondle it, slap it and then lifts of it right wing and sniffs, then onto the left wingpit – sniff. She then crabs both of its legs, spreads them apart and takes a big drawn out sniff.

She then glares at the butcher and says very methodically, “This bird isn’t fresh at all.”

The butch then says coolly, “Lady, could you pass that test?”