Three guys walk into a Jack in the Box...
So somebody tells my wife (you know who you are Miss Sharpen your hooks want to go fishing) I'm writing depressing stuff here. Now she is watching me closer than ever. She has always been a bit juberus about this blog business anyway.
So after some pretty good grades, an A and two Bs out of 6 test this week, 3 more to go tomorrow and a letter from the blood donation place that says O+ cholesterol 169, I'm out of school early today and decide to treat myself at Jack in the Box. Long drive through so I go in and order to go.
While I wait I watch. Three guys come in, two old hippies and a young man they seem to be mentoring, there but for the grace of God go I think. These guys are elevated to the level of craftsmen by the wave of immigrants into Texas. They got some kind of business going, work they are, hard sweaty, smelling of cigs and listening to music by bands that haven't made a good song in 25 years. One has a skimpy little ponytail, one is missing the ear piece for his glasses and the other one, the young one, well he might really be the brains of the outfit, the boss.
Ever on the watch out for something that tastes good, my ears perk up when skimpy ponytail says, " It's not on the menus, but they have it. You just order it."
To my disappointment they each then order a fish sandwitch with cheese. I grew up being told by adults if you combined dairy products and fish you would either die or wish you were dead. I was an adult before I did it and this was after watching my wife eat fish and dairy products while she laughed. I guess that custom stemmed from the days when not everyone had a fridge and the fish and dairy might be ruined and make you sick. Maybe my family has not had refridgeration all that long, I remember coming home one day long ago to find a roommate and the fridge he owned both gone and everything sitting on the kitchen counter. I can't remember if there was fish and dairy there or not.
Meanwhile back in the kitchen at the Box the cook, an unemployed poet, currently underemployed at a fast food joint, thinks three fish sandwiches, cheese, it aint Lent, it aint Easter, it aint the 4th of July and this sure aint catfish.
What ever kind of fish it was, it's swimming in their bellies.
So after some pretty good grades, an A and two Bs out of 6 test this week, 3 more to go tomorrow and a letter from the blood donation place that says O+ cholesterol 169, I'm out of school early today and decide to treat myself at Jack in the Box. Long drive through so I go in and order to go.
While I wait I watch. Three guys come in, two old hippies and a young man they seem to be mentoring, there but for the grace of God go I think. These guys are elevated to the level of craftsmen by the wave of immigrants into Texas. They got some kind of business going, work they are, hard sweaty, smelling of cigs and listening to music by bands that haven't made a good song in 25 years. One has a skimpy little ponytail, one is missing the ear piece for his glasses and the other one, the young one, well he might really be the brains of the outfit, the boss.
Ever on the watch out for something that tastes good, my ears perk up when skimpy ponytail says, " It's not on the menus, but they have it. You just order it."
To my disappointment they each then order a fish sandwitch with cheese. I grew up being told by adults if you combined dairy products and fish you would either die or wish you were dead. I was an adult before I did it and this was after watching my wife eat fish and dairy products while she laughed. I guess that custom stemmed from the days when not everyone had a fridge and the fish and dairy might be ruined and make you sick. Maybe my family has not had refridgeration all that long, I remember coming home one day long ago to find a roommate and the fridge he owned both gone and everything sitting on the kitchen counter. I can't remember if there was fish and dairy there or not.
Meanwhile back in the kitchen at the Box the cook, an unemployed poet, currently underemployed at a fast food joint, thinks three fish sandwiches, cheese, it aint Lent, it aint Easter, it aint the 4th of July and this sure aint catfish.
What ever kind of fish it was, it's swimming in their bellies.
Labels: catfish
posted by Carl at 8:51 PM
2 Comments:
My dad was raised the same way - you can't drink milk with fish. When he went in the Coast Guard, the first meal was fish and milk. He thought they were all going to die.
I enjoy your blog. Check it out pretty often. The matador blog was my favorite. You are a talented writer.
Glad you enjoy the blog, thanks for reading and for the compliments.
That reminds me, didn't you borrow an English book from me a couple of semesters ago... :)
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