Subject: No Crabs for Christmas

Date: 15 Dec 1998 00:00:00 GMT

From: "König Preuße, GmbH" <bbombere@erols.com>

Organization: Lou Minotti & the Clamsauce Enema Band

Newsgroups: alt.foot.fat-free

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

houses.

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.