What are you eating?
“Dude, what are doing for dinner?”
“Eating a sandwich.” [Crunching noises go here. Hear.>
“Har-har, what kind of sandwich?”
Fake white bread, fake Ranch dressing with fake bacon on it.
I take pride in myself with a certain \\panache\\ for creating delicacies otherwise unheard of. Cranky Amy is on a diet, so I was mirroring her efforts with a little culinary creation of my own.
It started when one of my Gemini friends came by to get some paperwork from me, and that led to coffee at Jo’s, which then became a quick trip through the grocery store, then a quick trip to the post office where I bailed out. I hiked myself on over to the Springs, which were closed, but that didn’t stop me from a quick dunk in the creek. While I had real culinary creations dancing through my head, an elaborate feast of some sort, by the time I got home, I was hungry, and I looked at my recent acquisitions.
Then I began to arrange the condiments, mentally at first, then physically: two slices of white bread, spread a little fake ranch dressing on, sprinkle on the fake [soy> bacon bits, and presto! It’s a politically correct sandwich that crunches and uses no natural ingredients whatsoever.
Bubba rescued me. He came in, looking like the thug that he can be, we discussed important matters while he perused my coffee table material, “I’m reading my horoscope by Rob whatever.”
Sandy’s, Barton Spring Road & South First Street. Amazing. Dinner for two, Bubba bought, was less than $6. Burger, fries and a drink. So much for eating healthy, non-organic sandwiches over the kitchen sink.
