Scorpio Humor – David’s “Beef” Barbecue

bigstock Happy Couple 416195518 300x214 Scorpio Humor – Davids Beef BarbecueScorpio – The Master of Relationships – At Least According to Me

Most people seem to enjoy my humor so I decided to include a little snippet each Monday. Most of this humor is based upon real life incidents with Linda and me but are slightly exaggerated. You may see a little of my Scorpio CType and Linda’s Sagittarius CType here. You may also see a little of your relationships in these little bites of levity. Enjoy and I hope these brighten your Monday’s in some small way.


In relationships, opposites attract. I’m always looking for a bargain. Linda worries about this because occasionally I’ve had bad luck with my low-cost purchases. She thinks we should always buy quality. I scoff at her inability to see that quality can be had at low prices if one is willing to do his homework. It pays to be shrewd, too, which I  consider myself to be.

During the summer, I love to barbeque. Normally it’s organic free range chicken and locally grown fresh organic vegetables. Umm Umm, good. Linda even bought me a cook’s hat for Father’s Day, which I wear when cooking, golfing or running on the beach. People seem to like it too and smile at me a lot.

I recently received an email from a rancher in Africa who was selling free range grass fed beef at reduced prices for special people like me. I could buy the finest cuts of prime beef for as little as $.12 per pound including cold shipping from Africa in individually vacuum packed plastic bags, 10 pounds of meat per bag. There was no risk because if I didn’t like the meat, I had only to return it for a full refund, which would go directly into my bank account through their online refund feature. I jumped at the chance to stock up on a 150 pounds of prime beef, assuring myself that everything would fit in our 14x10x6 inch meat bin in the freezer. I paid a little extra ($1200) for overnight delivery. Can’t be too safe with perishables, you know.

A month or so later a large box arrived at our house in an unmarked van. Inside the box were plastic bags with some sort of flesh in them. From the packing slip, I could see this was my shipment of beef from Africa. Although the meat in the plastic didn’t look like top sirloin, I attributed that to it being a more sturdy African cow. I became suspicious that someone had tampered with the labels when I noticed that the word “hyena” had been scratched out and replaced with “bef.” Throwing caution to the wind in my usual caviler style, I decided right then and there to surprise Linda with a gourmet steak dinner sizzling hot off the barbeque.

A little marinade and each 10 pound individually wrapped steak would be ready for the barbie. The only problem was that I couldn’t get my fork into the meat to turn it over in the marinade. It was like trying to turn a truck tire with a fork. No problem. Fire up the barbie and cook on high high high to infuse tenderness into the meat. I’d heard of this technique from the African Survival Internet site.

I like my steak char-medium rare. Based upon my Internet instructions, char-medium rare required 10 minutes per side on high heat for a one pound prime cut steak. So, cleverly calculating the time to cook a 10 pound steak, I came up with 100 minutes per side. I preheated the barbecue so we would have those great black grill markings that everyone loves, plopped the meat on the grill, pulled down the cover and set my timer to 100 minutes. At 100 minutes on the dot, I jammed my fork into the meat, turned it, but couldn’t see any black markings. The whole side seemed to be one continuous black mark, and a rather sooty one at that. Since I couldn’t remove the fork from the meat after turning it, I decided to leave it right where it was. Barbeque forks are normally quite heat resistant. I again set my timer to 100 minutes.

Just before I was scheduled to take the meat off the grill, the barbeque exploded and our neighbor across the street was knocked unconscious on her front lawn by what she later described as, “A black flaming rock that fell out of the sky.” Her new cat was also slightly injured when branded by what appeared to be a nearly molten and disfigured barbeque fork. Carbon and DNA analysis of the rock from the sky only added to the mystery. It appears the rock descended somehow from African spotted hyenas. The neighbor, who has never warmed up to me, indicated to the authorities that she thought I may have had something to do with her misfortune. Right. Like I control space debris. Linda has suggested in rather colorful terms that I call HazMat to remove the rest of meat from the house. I want to get another barbeque and a new hat, which also was damaged in the explosion. However, prudence indicates a wait until this African bef thing blows over and I straighten out the problem of the missing money in our bank account.

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