To be honest, it didn’t start with what Jimmy said. It didn’t start last night, during that long, ugly bar crawl. And as much as I’d like to lay it off on the drinking, or the coke, or the pressure of the busy season-it didn’t start there either.
It was the lobsters. And that steak. I think that steak might have had something to do with it.
That’s where things started to slide.
Understand; I’ve been killing lobsters for like, 22 years now. I’ve boiled them alive. Steamed them to death. I’ve torn them in half, chopped them into…
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