On our first visit to Daruma Japanese Steakhouse, Michael insisted that the Chef launch a shrimp into my mouth. Ofcourse, being the awkward person that I am, it bounced off my face and stuck to my shirt. After the long meal, we stood up to leave and I got all the way to my car before I realized the shrimp was clinging to my shirt for dear life (ironic since it was cooked right?).
Last night we returned to Daruma, and with the shrimp incident still very present in my memory, I had NO intention of every trying that circus act again. Michael, who relishes in my embarassment, encourages the Chef (same as last time) that I'm an old pro at this. I politefully decline and insist Michael is indeed the better sport. When that didn't work I resorted to the old "I'm allergic to shrimp" trick. Well, what do you know!?!?! I'm a moran and the guy has an entire grill full of beef, poultry and seafood ready to be launched at my face. It would have been more effective to say I was allergic to food.
Ofcourse, my pleadings have now drawn attention to me and the entire table is starring. I'm telling myself repeatedly "you're better under pressure, keep your eye on the chicken." As the Chef comments on the extremely large size of my mouth he hits the spatuala with a knife to spring the chicken into the air. Slowly and gingerly I tip my head backwards, blink and feel the hot chicken slap the back of my throat.
Holllllllllllllllllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
1 comment:
Wow, that's salacious.
Michael's a luck man.
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