#140. or, my old oysters

  So, a while back we went to Costco. Like, before Christmas. Occasionally, when we go, and it's not all that often, they have that fish guy there. The one with the small plastic containers of pre-shelled oysters sitting in their frosty bed of ice.

  I really like oysters. Even though it's sort of a crap shoot whenever I have them, as to whether I'll come down with a screaming headache or not. But still, I like them enough to take the chance.......once in a while.

  Anyways, we had bought a small tub of the oysters last summer and I smoked them. On the BBQ,  not rolled in paper. Cause they're all, like moist and shit and impossible to light. They turned out really good, and so, when we were shopping, before Christmas, the oyster guy was there, so on the way past, I threw a small tub into our gigantic Costco shopping cart, as a treat to have over the holidays.

  Last week, I discovered that they were still sitting on the shelf in the fridge. Instantly, I flashed back and remembered that it was late when we got home after shopping, and we decided we would put them into the fridge overnight and deal with them properly in the morning. They had somehow gotten hidden behind that jar of strawberry/rhubarb jam with the masking tape that says 2011 on it.  I know that they're not good anymore, in fact, they seem to be taking on a disgusting milky hue. And while whole uncooked oysters are not one the most pleasing things to look at every time you open the fridge, whole uncooked oysters in a bath of partially, translucent, milky liquid is somewhat disturbing. Yet, now that I've been re-introduced to this tub of what is rapidly evolving into some sort of goo, every time I open the fridge, my eyes are drawn to it like it's a car wreck on the side of the road as I drive past, rubber-necking at 2 mph.

  I'm a little afraid to move them. Actually......the truth is, I'm afraid to even touch them. I worry that the contents may have eaten their way through the bottom of the container and fused itself to the shelf right next to the coffee creamer. I worry, that if I touch the container, or even look at it too hard, it may explode. Covering me and the fridge in a gooey mess, and guys in hazmat suits will come bursting through the door to package up our refrigerator in some bio-dome thing, and I keep getting disturbing visions of being sprayed down by a fire hose in a concrete room, while a dude with a bristly broom scrubs my private parts.

  I don't know why the toxic oysters give me the hebby-jeebies? I mean, there's a block of cheese in the drawer thing, that isn't the crisper, where we keep the cheese and some unused packets of Soya Sauce, from the Spring Sun Restaurant, that has a healthy growth of mold on it. (the cheese has the mold, not the restaurant) I don't have any problem cutting a chunk of mold off of the cheese as I cut cubes to put on my salad. But then, you need bacteria to make cheese so somewhere in my brain, I've probably convinced myself mold on cheese only makes it better. The oysters just seem wrong.

  So, for now, I only give the tub of oysters passing glances to let it know that I'm aware of it, while still giving it the healthy dose of respect that it deserves. But it knows that I'm watching it, and one day, very soon, I'll have to deal with those unpleasant, out of date, shellfish.

...............unless of course, if I leave it long enough that my wife takes care of it first, then I'm off the hook.




This week, I'm dipping my toe into the Yeah Write waters to see if I sink or swim. Regardless of the outcome, it should be fun.