Seafood

Rock was near the buffet in an all-you-can-eat seafood pavilion on the Riverfront Pier, the latest edition to Little Rock's River Market district, when he saw Steve Sullivan, the lead sports anchor for a local television station. He had known Sullivan for twenty-five years, since a story he wrote about him appeared in the local paper.
They smiled, shook hands, spoke the required greetings, and went about loading their plates. Rock had loved shell fish throughout his life and was therefore captivated by the piles of crab, lobster, oysters, and shrimp in the buffet's large shiny food wells. He reached for a handful of crab claws, cracked one, and was stunned to see literally gallons of hot, murky liquid practically gush from it across the buffet and floor.
But Rock's initial surprise was far surpassed when Sullivan dropped to the floor and began vomiting the same sort of liquid. He threw up vigorously at first, for fifteen seconds or so, but the volume decreased incrementally until, after about a minute, he seemed recovered from all but stark embarrassment.
Rock reached for an arm as Sullivan began to rise.
"Oh, god, that was awful," Sullivan said. "I really put on a show, didn't I?"
"Steve, man, don't worry about it," Rock said. "Heck, that's happened to all of us."