A couple of weeks a go I came home from work and Trish had grilled dinner outside on the grill. I was too tired to ask, but it was a tough and spicy piece of meat. After we finished Trish and Martin looked at me and asked me if I liked it. I said I did, but I wasn't that hungry that night.
Martin looked pleased as punch and was bouncing up and down in his seat. "Can I sing the song? Please? Please!" he asked Trish.
Trish studied me and my plate. "Ok", she said. "Go ahead."
Martin started singing a horrible children's song... "Skippy, oh Skippy..."
I sat there looking at them both. They were grinning ear to ear. I didn't get it. Finally Trish asked "Do you know what the meat was?".
Oh. Now it all made sense. The gamey mystery meat, the Skippy song. We had eaten kangaroo steaks for dinner. It wasn't bad. Trish had cooked the hell out of it and had smothered it in spices and sauces.
Still, they could had warned me. These people are really sick.
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