Hic!
A couple of people have recently queried whether I have any friends.
Well, I went out with a couple tonight, thanks. I don’t know them too well, but managed to keep the conversation going by sharing, amongst other things, lengthy stories about cockroaches. We went to a hawker centre for some dinner. This particular hawker centre is famous for its frog dishes. Eeek!
Quite often, when I eat chilli or other spicy food I get hiccups. Tonight we shared 3 dishes, one of which was chicken with dried chilli, but none of which contained frog.
I was starving, having gone straight from work to the pub for a few beers, so I gulped down the first few mouthfuls.
Big mistake.
The hiccups started. I didn’t know my fellow diners too well, so initially tried to pretend I didn’t have hiccups by not talking for a while, feigning an interest in the television, and desperately holding my breath.
This didn’t work.
I then went off to the toilet, held my breath for about a minute, and, satisfied that the hiccups had gone, returned to the table.
As soon as I swallowed my next mouthful of food, they started again.
When I was certain that my fellow diners were preoccupied by their food, I surreptitiously tried to take a swig of beer backwards. To no avail. I continued to swallow my hiccups. I was running out of ideas. Next, I tried holding my nose whilst drinking beer backwards. Spilling my beer all over myself, I was rumbled immediately.
“Got hiccups, Mike?” asked Kev.
“Yes,” I replied sheepishly.
“Tried holding your breath?” asked Jane.
“Yes,” I replied.
A pause.
“COCKROACH!” cried Jane.
Sadly, I was expecting one of them to make me jump, so that didn’t work either.
“There’s only one thing for it,” Kev stated, with great authority. “You need some frog.”
“What?”
“Frog. It works every time.”
“South East Asians swear by it,” commented Jane, “It really works.”
“I think I’ll be ok…” I protested.
“It’s ok, it tastes like chicken,” remarked Kev.
“Doesn’t everything?” I asked.
“Yes,” replied Jane, then, somewhat alarmingly, she added, “Even human flesh.”
Five minutes later, a plate of steaming diced frog arrived in front of me. Tentatively, I took a small piece and put it in my mouth, chewing with trepidation.
“More!” encouraged Kev, “You need more!”
Jane took my fork, pinned a large piece, and shoved it into my mouth, the pair of them gazing at me intently.
I chewed, swallowed, and hiccupped again immediately.
They both fell about laughing.
It didn’t taste like chicken. It didn't cure my hiccups.
But at least I have some friends.
Well, I went out with a couple tonight, thanks. I don’t know them too well, but managed to keep the conversation going by sharing, amongst other things, lengthy stories about cockroaches. We went to a hawker centre for some dinner. This particular hawker centre is famous for its frog dishes. Eeek!
Quite often, when I eat chilli or other spicy food I get hiccups. Tonight we shared 3 dishes, one of which was chicken with dried chilli, but none of which contained frog.
I was starving, having gone straight from work to the pub for a few beers, so I gulped down the first few mouthfuls.
Big mistake.
The hiccups started. I didn’t know my fellow diners too well, so initially tried to pretend I didn’t have hiccups by not talking for a while, feigning an interest in the television, and desperately holding my breath.
This didn’t work.
I then went off to the toilet, held my breath for about a minute, and, satisfied that the hiccups had gone, returned to the table.
As soon as I swallowed my next mouthful of food, they started again.
When I was certain that my fellow diners were preoccupied by their food, I surreptitiously tried to take a swig of beer backwards. To no avail. I continued to swallow my hiccups. I was running out of ideas. Next, I tried holding my nose whilst drinking beer backwards. Spilling my beer all over myself, I was rumbled immediately.
“Got hiccups, Mike?” asked Kev.
“Yes,” I replied sheepishly.
“Tried holding your breath?” asked Jane.
“Yes,” I replied.
A pause.
“COCKROACH!” cried Jane.
Sadly, I was expecting one of them to make me jump, so that didn’t work either.
“There’s only one thing for it,” Kev stated, with great authority. “You need some frog.”
“What?”
“Frog. It works every time.”
“South East Asians swear by it,” commented Jane, “It really works.”
“I think I’ll be ok…” I protested.
“It’s ok, it tastes like chicken,” remarked Kev.
“Doesn’t everything?” I asked.
“Yes,” replied Jane, then, somewhat alarmingly, she added, “Even human flesh.”
Five minutes later, a plate of steaming diced frog arrived in front of me. Tentatively, I took a small piece and put it in my mouth, chewing with trepidation.
“More!” encouraged Kev, “You need more!”
Jane took my fork, pinned a large piece, and shoved it into my mouth, the pair of them gazing at me intently.
I chewed, swallowed, and hiccupped again immediately.
They both fell about laughing.
It didn’t taste like chicken. It didn't cure my hiccups.
But at least I have some friends.
posted by Me @ 11:11 pm
5 Comments:
At 11:27 pm,
swisslet said…
I thought humans taste like fatty pork - hence the expression "Long Pig".
When I say "I thought", please try not to read that as "When I last ate some..." because that would give you quite the wrong impression of me.
Do you think cockroaches taste like chicken?
At 11:56 pm,
Unknown said…
Incidentally, you can eat cockroaches without dying, or making yourself ill and they are quite nutritious.
Better boiled but you can eat them raw... better wash them 1st though!
At 12:08 am,
Me said…
Everything tastes like chicken, which is quite useful in these days of bird flu - but, eating cockroaches? And eating cockroaches to cure hiccups?
Surely no one could be that gullible.
At 7:46 am,
Damo said…
Who queried if you have any friends? That wasn't a very nice thing of them to say!
At 8:02 pm,
Me said…
Just my so called "friends" back home.
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