Must Have Been Something In That Chicken

(It is shortly after my mother has had her gallbladder removed. We are eating at a restaurant and I’ve gotten chicken tenders.)

Me: “What’s this blotch on the chicken?”

Brother: “It’s a gallbladder.”

Me: “It is not!”

Brother: “Really, it is!”

Mom: “It’s a bit of cooked blood. Just eat around it.”

(Later, we’re at home, having completely forgotten about the incident. Suddenly, my brother bursts from his bedroom wearing a straw hat and carrying an empty rifle.)

Brother: *in an exaggerated Southern accent* “Watch out! The gallbladders are attackin’! They grow hair on their backs and howl at the moon! I saw a herd of them wipe out an entire Indian reservation!”

(We all burst out laughing. To this day we talk about the ‘vicious gallbladders.’)