Confessions of a Lobster Killer

I'm a killer. I am a murderer. I murdered a helpless innocent lobster today. God (who I highly doubt exists) knows it was never my intention to hurt much more kill a lobster. I was supposed to buy a crab, which by the way I was also planning to kill by plunging a knife right through its belly but for some reason lobsters were on sale at the Superstore today.

Like a true predator, I stalked my poor victim. I was looking for a crab but this frisky lobster fellow caught my eye, he clawed his way up the top of the tightly packed crab and lobster tank. He swam back and forth, flipping its tail now and then, asking me to pay close attention. He was quite a character, he has joie de vivre compared to his other buddies who seemed resigned to their gruesome fate and of course, I was just simply and utterly mesmerized. I checked out the price $9.99 a pound. Not bad at all. They don't sell them like that very often. It was fate. The poor little guy was bound to end up on my dinner plate.


I have never killed a lobster before. While we were driving home, I told Mr. Cat he had to kill it. Then like a true psychopath, I described to him in gruesome detail how the Iron Chefs of the Food Network plunge their knives into the poor innocent lobsters' heads then dunk them into the boiling court bouillon and happily watch them as they turn red. He said to me, "I decided to start being a Buddhist today". When we got home, he had a nap (meditation) and I was left on my own with my new buddy, the lobster. I honestly didn't know what to do with him.

So I made a court bouillon (I got the recipe from Ad Hoc I think) and brought it to a rolling boil. With shaking hands, I scrubbed the poor little fellow clean. Hey if today was my last day on Earth, I would also want to be clean. Now there's no escaping it, I had to do it. So I put him on my cutting board, grabbed my biggest and sharpest knife and aimed it right at the very centre of its head. I held the knife tightly with my two hands, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and plunged my murder weapon right into its cerebral cortex. I swear the lobster shrieked!!! Yay!!! I have no idea lobsters can actually shriek. It freaked the hell out of me. I snapped my eyes open. I grabbed it by the tail with my left hand and with my right hand still holding the knife which by the way was still stuck in the lobster's head, I plunged it into the violently boiling court bouillon. It struggled to its death, claws outstretched and with one last flip of its tail, it curled itself into a fetal position. Within minutes it turned into an angry fire red.

I could not bring myself to snap a photo of it. I think it deserves a little privacy.

To my friend the lobster, I hope you can forgive me and not make me sick.