The ominous, thick envelope or who do I have to…

Previously on The Bruce: But, still I now had protesters to deal with along with the ominous thick envelope on my dashboard.

And now:

Leave it to some oozing, warm-blooded, do-good organization to screw things up royally. Pops had been making his buffalo mozzarella pizza for years without a hitch and along comes some hairy-armpitted, unkempt group hell-bent on exacting their pound of flesh or in this case, cheese, from this poor working stiff. Polly was besides herself, which isn’t unusual since she often battles with one if not several of the personalities that dwell with her cranial cavity. Talk about your extended family. Distended would be more like it.

Part of the extended Calamari family.

Fortunately the protest was peaceful if not somewhat malodorous as most of the protestors hadn’t had intimate relations with a bar of Zest for some time. But then again, Pops pretty much smells the same way all the time, shower or not. But he was getting the kind of gleeful press one reserves for Sarah Palin. The press smelling blood, which again in this case was NOT the case, was going for it all and at the center of it was Pops and by extension Polly and me. And Ahmad wasn’t too happy either. And there was that envelope too.

We called a few of our friends, lapsed Guardian Angels, to help us quell the crowd. The appearance of them in their worn but still proudly worn red berets was enough to instill just the amount of fear into the cheese-huggers. No doubt the large clubs they were carrying also had some effect on them and they left none too quickly. Polly returned to  huffing her almost depleted Sterno can, Ahmad said a prayer with his beads, and Pops offered free pizza to all who helped out. Me, I was just pissed.

The nearest we can figure is that this was a poor version of a flash-mob with nothing better to do, but isn’t that what all of them are about anyway? There didn’t appear to be any real organizing group behind it and we put it behind us. But, now I had to open that envelope.

There was a return address on it, but not one I could identify with anything specific. It was heavy, pretty thick, actually. I opened it with no small amount of trepidation fearing it might contain some biological equivalent to Polly’s cooking, known to render all who partook immobile almost immediately. It’s why Pops did all the cooking. It was Pops manuscript. He had an idea for a book and had sent it out to who knows how many publishers. He thought the world would beat a path to his door with his vegetarian pizza recipes. Pops was nothing if not ever-hopeful.

Well, it was no surprise. The publisher hated it. They thought a cookbook with the questionable title: Roadkill for Vegetarians might turn some people off. Hell, it might even offend them. Pops was crushed. But since he was of good peasant stock, he thought, he believed, another publisher would find the intrinsic merit of this gustatotrial tome, that it would only be a matter of days before it hit the New York Times best seller list. Hey, stranger things have happened in the Calamari family.

Cover art for Roadkill for Vegetarians cookbook.

So the mystery of the envelope was solved; the mob was dispersed; Ahmed was back to polishing the same frigging glass; in short all was as it should be. But not for long. Barry came in looking for his weekly order of baksheesh.

Limited resources or how to stretch your dining dollars.

Bruce and I were having one of our late-night-up-until-the-early-hours philosophical/theological discussion. He’d just seen an episode of Whale Wars and was bemoaning the fact that there were fewer and fewer whales in the world. I misunderstood him and thought he meant that with all the whales gone there’d be no more episodes of Whale Wars. Boy, was I ever wrong! He was really worried about the fate of the world, the way we take things for granted, our criminally poor stewardship of dear old Mother Earth (his words, I swear!), and the amount of waste in our lives. Taken in the context of his life of wretched excess and gas-guzzling cars (the Pignasaurus not withstanding), this was an amazing about-face for him.

It just made him weep.

I looked up and he was crying! “What is going to happen to all those poor, dead whales just floating around in the sea?” I opined that they could be harvested for ambergris, a key ingredient in his favorite cologne, but he found no comfort there. And it went downhill from there.

He calmed down enough for us to go out for dinner as our dear Mrs. Crosby had the night off again. (Aside – does she ever work? I’ll have to ask Bruce when he’s in a better mood.) So on our way to Casa del Pies for a favorite dish of ours – the pigs feet in rose wine and guacamole, Bruce saw a dead raccoon in the road. This set him off once again. First the whales, now the raccoons. (Please lord, give me strength!) But this gave me a brilliant idea.

Since Bruce was now exhibiting a concern for the world around him, this was going to be a winner. If you are like us, and we assume you are for you are reading this blog, then you are probably hyper-aware of the increasingly large amount of road kill these days. Ignoring them and leaving them on the road is poor stewardship. As our primary premise, we will be publishing the first ever gourmet road kill cookbook. Think about it: no more unsightly animal carcasses befouling our thoroughfares; we will now use all that is provided to us by a higher power, if you believe in such things; and finally, nutritious meals that can be had by all. We are going to provide a few of the recipes now slated for inclusion in our new French-inspired, but globally-adaptable cookbook, Rue de la Morte. What you will undoubtedly notice is that all palates can be entertained by these and all road kill can be adapted to multiple cuisines.

We wanted to make sure no children were traumatized by this post.

Tex-Mex Armadillo stew: 1 armadillo; 4 tomatoes; 2 tablespoons cayenne pepper, 2 slices American cheese; two large Idaho potatoes; 4 cups of chicken broth; 6 tablespoons sugar; 1 bay leaf. Toss in stock pot for 6 hours.

New England whale chowder: 1 whale; 4 tomatoes; 2 tablespoons cayenne pepper, 2 slices American cheese; two large Idaho potatoes; 4 cups of chicken broth; 6 tablespoons sugar; 1 bay leaf. Toss in stock pot for 6 hours.

New Jersey squirrel pate: 1 squirrel; 4 tomatoes; 2 tablespoons cayenne pepper, 2 slices American cheese; two large Idaho potatoes; 4 cups of chicken broth; 6 tablespoons sugar; 1 bay leaf. Toss in blender.

Montana Bambi stew: 1 deer; 4 tomatoes; 2 tablespoons cayenne pepper, 2 slices American cheese; two large Idaho potatoes; 4 cups of chicken broth; 6 tablespoons sugar; 1 bay leaf. Toss in stock pot for 6 hours.

Brazilian dolphin ragout: 1 dolphin; 4 tomatoes; 2 tablespoons cayenne pepper, 2 slices American cheese; two large Idaho potatoes; 4 cups of chicken broth; 6 tablespoons sugar; 1 bay leaf. Toss in stock pot for 6 hours.

Pepe Le Pew Jambalaya: 1 skunk; 4 tomatoes; 2 tablespoons cayenne pepper, 2 slices American cheese; two large Idaho potatoes; 4 cups of chicken broth; 6 tablespoons sugar; 1 bay leaf. Toss in stock pot for 6 hours. Add ketchup to kill smell.

Jambalaya – it’s all good.

I think you get the idea. Anything with this universally helpful recipe can turn the most disgusting road kill into a gourmet’s delight. And keep in mind, if it’s been on the road for a day or two, even better. It’s just like aged beef. So, take a chance. What have you got to lose?