The Roo? Kanga's Demise.

Once there was a boy who had asked me out many times but we were always in the wrong place: geographically and emotionally. So when things finally did get lined up I was excited to get this party started. He took me to a fancy spot for dinner. It was a Swiss-Italian restaurant that had an ever-changing menu.
During conversations at parties or over the phone or even through mail, we always clicked and shared the same interests and sense of humor so I felt this would be an evening of good conversation.
A major dating plus.
Things were off to a good start. Lots of chatting, Lots of witty repartee. He was polite, chivalrous yet smart and funny.
And then we perused the menu.
One seasonal menu item that sparked some dialogue was a meal of kangaroo.
Yes, Kanga. Roo.
I realize people around the globe eat kangaroo. But, I was dismayed. As an animal lover, I expressed distaste for such an item. While not a vegetarian, I thought the beastly choice was over the top.
I said as much.
My date laughed and began to tease about ordering the dish and so forth.
I really did not want to sit across from Miss Kanga and think about her baby Roo wandering the Outback alone.
I said as much.
This continued until the waiter arrived to take our order.

“May I take your order, sir?”

"Uh yes, I'll have ... The Roo," he said.

The Roo?

So yeah….it didn’t really work out.