Seafood Sundays
*Been posting some heavy stuff lately. Time for a bit of levity.
"Hey babe, you're never gonna believe this. Crab fishing in Alaska has been cancelled for 2023."
"I don't understand, dear."
"Well, according to the paper, all the crabs have 'left the building.' It's crabs no mo."
"But where did they go?"
"Ahh, that's the mystery, indeed. Some are blaming sockeye salmon, whatever the flip that is. But I have my own theories."
"Sigh. here we go..."
"Yeah, I figure the little buggers finally figured out that not getting out of the way of the sweeping net is really sucky. Or maybe they all went on strike and decided that ending up on dinner plates was a crappy way to go. Then again, it's possible that alien visitors sampled the tasty crustaceans and transported the lot of them to their home world. Of course, the prevailing conspiracy theory has it that a certain former president with a craving for crab monopolized the fishing industry in Alaska and hoarded them all in ginormous freezers at his Florida resort. All I know is, I'm gonna miss our seafood Sundays. Shrimp and lobster just ain't the same without a complementary pound or two of crab legs. I really believe the end of the world is here."
"Poor, poor baby. By the way, seafood Sunday is on this weekend. I was able to snatch up a few dozen pounds before they all did the Elvis thing."
"Seriously? Kewl. Crab Armageddon will have to wait. Hey, have you noticed the price of beef lately? There goes my Saturday steaks on the grill. I've got some theories on the present crisis..."
"Yes, dear."
Copyright © Tom Woody | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment