HUNGRY GERALD

HG and family are driving to a Cape Cod vacation. HG’s mood is foul. HG is Mister Grouch. HG is in the midst of one of his attempts to stop smoking and nicotine withdrawal is driving him nuts. HG and family are ravenous. HG refuses to make a food stop. “Just wait. We’re in New England. When we get to Falmouth we’ll have big bowls of real New England clam chowder.” Falmouth at last. HG and family enter a promising restaurant with a nautical name like: “Salty Captain Bill’s Clam Shanty.” Yum!! The bowls of The Real Original New England Clam Chowder are presented. HG has a taste. Famished little Jeremy raises a spoon. HG screams: “Don’t touch it!! This is EXCREMENT!! EXCREMENT!! EXCREMENT!! (of course, HG uses a shorter, coarser word).   HG has tasted the alleged clam chowder.  It has the hue, consistency and taste of library paste mixed with a dash of brackish water.  There are no chunks of clam.  It smells like wet dog.  Crazed HG keeps screaming. Customers try to avert their eyes.  HG and family get up to leave. A  bill is presented.  “Are you mad? Do you actually think I am going to pay to eat EXCREMENT?”  Consternation and embarrassment.  Little Jeremy tries to hide.   Pre-teenage Lesley realizes that her father is a lunatic.  Rational Beautiful Sharon says: “Hey, it’s only a bowl of bad chowder.” The waitress says: “I am calling the police.” Seething,  HG throws a bill on the floor.   Exit.   Later ironic discovery: An outstanding chowder and fried clam shack is on the Falmouth waterfront,  a block from Captain Bill’s EXCREMENT establishment.