Frankly, Scallop, I Don’t Give A Clam

Frankly, Scallop, 

I Don’t Give A Clam

The Shelter Island Reporter recently described a disappointing scallop harvest this year, as opposed to a huge harvest last year, the biggest since the brown tide hit the East End in the mid-80s. The truth is, it would have been another banner year I suppose, if I had known the Island was going to keep such close track of track of these things. [expand]


“Step out of the car, please, Ms. Flynn.”

“Why? I didn’t do anything.”

Breathe into this breathalyzer, please.”

“What? It’s 4 p.m. and I don’t drink anyway. What are you testing me for?”

“You blew a .24 for saltwater Ms. Flynn. How many scallops have you eaten today?”

“What? I don’t know, breakfast, lunch, why are you asking?”

“We’re going to conduct a road side test for bi-valve consumption. Walk this line with your eyes closed while balancing this test scallop on your head.”

“This is stupid. Since when did scallop consumption become a problem?”

“Since you and a handful of other people decided that since we had such a good year last year, it was open season for scallops. It’s bad enough the way you single handedly decimate the clam beds here, Ms. Flynn, you don’t need to consume every available scallop we have. And that’s the third time you’ve dropped the scallop off your head. You’re listing to one side, your pitch and yar is clearly impaired. You’re being cited for being Shellfish Selfish. Please open your car.”

Shellfish Selfish? That covers half the people on the Island!”

“Can you explain this? There’s a bushel of clams and a half bushel of scallops in your trunk, four packs of Nathan’s hotdogs, soft drinks and six bags of chips? What do you call this, Ms. Flynn?”

“I’m calling it a good time. I’m going to a barbecue at the McGayhey’s.”

“They eat a lost of shellfish, do they? The McGayhey’s? Are they bringing clams and scallops too?”

“Oh, ah…, they never touch the stuff. This is just my supply. I’ll be the only scallop trollop there.”

“This bumper sticker, Will Trade Sex for Lobster, doesn’t help you, Ms. Flynn, please have that removed before other women get any ideas.”

“Hell, I know women that will trade sex for mussels.”

“Well, so do we and we know where that leads. Mussels are a gateway shellfish. A little butter, a little garlic and soon they’re craving clams, then scallops, and look where that has gotten you.”

“Please sign here, it is not an admission of guilt, just an admission that you were caught dead to rights and you are aware that we will be raking you over the clam beds of justice very soon.”

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