Subject: No Crabs for Christmas
Date: 15 Dec 1998 00:00:00 GMT
From: "König Preuße, GmbH" <email@example.com>
Organization: Lou Minotti & the Clamsauce Enema Band
No crabs for Christmas!
At least not from Capt. Pell's Crab House--
The Crab House is no more, it is defunct, it is non extant.
Capt. Pell's, like many of the landmark local eateries has
succumbed to progress and the demand for more housing
to house those little chi chi suited real estate ladies that sell the
Capt. Pell's had a formula, crabs and beer, and did not deviate
from that much except to make a concession to shrimp in New
Orleans spice to eat with beer while one was waiting for steamed
crabs in Old Bay Seasoning. The Capt. sold truckloads of crabs
while always having a full house and a considerable "to go" traffic.
I liked Capt. Pell's Crab House so much that I actually lived
in some of the rooms behind the restaurant that were reputed
to have been a house of ill-repute at some long previous time.
While living there, I'd thought to write about the place, something
on the order of, "Chapter One: The Aroma and General Ambiance,"
which was about as far as I got before deciding more beer and crabs
were in order to help maintain perspective and dissuade equilibrium.
Claws and legs were abundant and free, I could garner a shopping bag
full from the steamer as only whole crabs were served, and I could
run a beer tab.
I became so imbued with the Crab House that while it did
yet seem pungently sweet to me, I pretty much took it for granted.
I was reminded that some people aren't friends of the beautiful
swimmers as I am by the gasping, gagging, and genuflecting of
outsiders whom I thought of as "off-islanders."
No crabs for Christmas, but it has become a custom to give
live lobsters wrapped in wet newspaper and then normally
gift wrapped. Always good for a laugh, especially when
adorned with a toy Santa made of rubber that farts when you
squeeze him, just like Capt. Pell.