Written by: Roscoe |  Print this post and share it with your buddies!

A GREAT GAME
And a great time seemingly had by all at Roscoe’s Tiki Bar. The food was great, from the BBQ’d oysters to the pulled pork and the sausage pot, the gumbo – too hot for some, not hot enough for others, just right for the rest – and the deserts all disappeared. Bourbon was sampled, beer was guzzled, and stogies were smoked. Finally, the cleanup crew did their job and left, and it looked like another successful event was over. It was late, time for bed.

THEN… A KNOCK AT THE DOOR
Loud, insistent. Perhaps someone had forgotten a cellphone, it’s usually what happens. Opened the door to five guys in haz mat suits, with geiger counters and gizmos that looked borrowed from Ghostbusters. Said their sensors had gone off at headquarters just before the game. But before they could send out a team, the numbers started going down, as though the hazard were diminishing, and they decided to hold off, watch the game, then follow up afterward. Which explains the late night visit. I let them in, of course, showed them what I thought the source of their readouts was…

ABOUT A HUNDRED SMOLDERING CIGAR BUTTS!
Yes, they examined the butts – strange glances when they suspected a Cuban, but these guys weren’t from customs, so they didn’t seem too upset (more disappointment than anything). I thought they’d be satisfied with this explanation, but no. The geiger counters were still registering hazardous material in the area, actually…

RIGHT IN THE HOUSE
They finally all converged on a garbage bag, tied up and ready to go out. The area was cordoned off, and they went to work, with a lot of noise now coming from their sensors. I insisted on seeing the results, but they made me stand behind a lead shield. Finally, after ripping apart the contents of the bag, the lead investigator threw off his protective headgear and laughed at what he’d found:

COCKTAIL SAUCE!
Yes, it was hot when we’d eaten it, but in a good way, spicy and tangy, and only a few guys started to sweat. We were grateful that Glenn had brought it, along with the generous bowl of huge shrimp.

BUT IT WASN’T OVER
The entire haz mat team then grilled me for a couple of hours, trying to piece together an explanation. They finally figured it out: their sensors went off when Glenn first uncovered the sauce and set it out. Guys began eating it, thereby causing the reduction in alarm readouts. And even though this explanation seemed to satisfy them, they didn’t want to take any chances. The remaining cocktail sauce was carefully packaged in lead, and removed. Needless to say, I got to bed late.

Life can be interesting when you’re Cookin’ With Roscoe.