By Richard Edenfield
My stepfather walked into Roy Rogers like a gunslinger who mows down all-you-can-eat salad bars.
“No way are they making any damn money off me!”
I calculated, at $6.99, he would have to eat about 20 plates for them to literally make no damn money off him.
His face was turning green at about plate 17. At 24 plates, he collapsed onto the floor.
In the hospital, when he came to, he was informed that the restaurant had lost 63 cents because of him.
Thousand Island bloodstains on his shirt.
A fork in his pocket glistened like a four-pronged six shooter.
Excellent. l don’t know who or what I was rooting for but, geeze this was fun.
Thanks. I am all about fun.
Thank you. I am all about fun.
Thank you.
Thanks.