I know all you seafood fans enjoyed the Two-For-One Crab Special I ran back in August. If you missed it, I encourage you to go back and check it out, if for no other reason than its uplifting, spiritual message. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll douse your home in Raid.
But if you're in the mood for some more crab, I have it for you here. This one comes from my friend Joe, and it involves his parents. And yes, it is 100% true. You can't make this shit up.
Joe was attending college, but was home for the weekend to visit friends, and to support the local liquor stores. Apparently his parents were out of town, so at some point in the booze-filled evening, he and his comrades took the party to his parents' house, where his cousin Henry ended up romancing some lady of dubious moral character in Joe's parents' bed. (Note to self: Never, ever leave town after Jake reaches puberty.)
Why wouldn't Joe's bed have been the natural choice? We may never know. Perhaps the vomit present on that item of furniture was distasteful to the questionable lady in question. Perhaps there were four nearly comatose alcoholics already peacefully napping there. Perhaps the tipsy couple were unable to locate Joe's bed, or perhaps they thought there were in Joe's bed. Either way, the deed was done--probably very sloppily--and Joe returned to his college life after the weekend of fun and frolic and displaced fornication.
Sometime during the following week, Joe received a panicked phone call from his father back home. Joe's mom was accusing his dad of cheating on her because she found herself with a case of crabs--which, naturally, would send up a red flag to any thinking woman. Dad's flustered reply of, "Well, I didn't give them to you; you must have picked them up from sitting on something," was not going over well with her. A divorce, and possibly a fatal stab wound, was imminent unless some hasty detective work could produce a more acceptable explanation for the sudden panty invasion. It didn't take a genius to know the investigation should begin with Joe.
Joe called cousin Henry, cousin Henry was forced to reluctantly call Mom and claim responsibility for the crab infestation, and probably to apologize very, very profusely and sincerely and repeatedly for having the bad judgment to use their marital bed for the site of one of his STD-collecting expeditions. Dad was removed from the Shit List, at least for the time being, and Joe was left with the rare distinction of being able to say he was at least partially at fault for his mom getting crabs. And Henry, I assume, was off to the nearest pharmacy.
And they all lived happily ever after.