“You can’t eat those—You don’t know where they came from!”
“Ken, I obviously know where they came from. These are green-lipped mussels from New Zealand. They are one of the largest of the mussel species and are unique in that they only have one adductor muscle.”
“I know the’re mussels, CC. I mean you don’t know how they got here, on your front porch. You can’t just eat raw shelfish left anonymously on your door step.”
“Why not? Are you telling me that you would turn away from an obvious karmic gift like this? Besides, Kenny-boy, they are packed in ice.”
“Are you just fucking with me CC? You come home after work and find an ice chest, a grody held together with duct tape ice chest on your front step, and you are just gonna dive right in and eat the contents?”
“Of course not. I’m going to plunge these babies into boiling water and watch until the shell just starts to open. Then I am going to dip them in melted butter and eat them. Mmmmmm….”
“But how long have they been here? Who left them? Are they still good? Do you have any enemies? Death by food poisoning would look pretty natural.”
“Ken, you’re a smart guy, but you get overwhelmed by fear at the strangest times. Then other times you are completely oblivious to the obvious and real danger you are in.”
“Okay, Mr. Cryptic. What real danger?”
“Like yesterday when your wife came in with that pin-striped lawyer and handed you all those papers and a shiny new pen. You should have smelled the musk of corporate carnivore oozing from around that guy’s French cuffs and run for the back door of the store. But you just stood there nodding and smiling and asking Mr. Sabertooth Esquire if he was related to the Ventura Sabertooths because you have a cousin who married a young Sabertooth. You don’t know when to be afraid is all I’m saying. You jump away from ropes and then naively ask snakes if they will keep an eye on your pet mouse.”
“Fuck you, CC. Sherri is just cleaning up some of the legal paperwork. You know you never take care of that shit. If she hadn’t gone through all those old account books the IRS would own the store by now.”
“If you say so.”
“Well, don’t talk shit about my wife. That ain’t cool.”
“So now you grow a spine and bare your teeth. Ropes and snakes. See what I mean?”
“Sakes and ladders, dude. Snakes on a plane. Snakes in the fucking grass. Don’t pretend to be my friend and then attack my wife.”
“I am your friend, Kenny. I just think Sherri’s been buying too much snake oil lately. I love you guys, man. But she’s not the same girl you met in college. That’s all. She’s getting too attached to the money. Money can pull you off center, make you do bad things.”
“Whatever… Are you really gonna eat these things?”
“Yes, I’m going to eat the shellfish left on my porch. I don’t look a gift mussel in the mouth. You want to hang out, help me cook ‘em? I’ve got ravioli left if you don’t dare lock lips with a New Zealand green lip. What you say?”
“No, that’s alright. Sherri wants us to go to this new place over by the marina. They have crab cakes to die for, apparently.”
------------------------------Credits: Words by Jay Larsen
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