Tires Spitting Gravel, I Commit My Weekly Crime

I remember one day trying to find a place to eat lunch. It had been a long day, you see. There had been constant harassments from the client, "Do this! Do that! Why the hell did you do that? I meant do this!" Of course, I just answer with "Yes my liege" and immediately do 'that'. Ten minutes later I hear, "That is not what I wanted!!"

I am not entirely sure they found the body.

A place to eat was finally found. The name was not familiar to me but it had a familiar look.

The friendly hostess seated me in a corner. The waiter, equally as friendly as the hostess, soon arrived to take my order. "Howzit goan, eh?" he said. I returned what I thought to be a greeting and proceeded to order a meal containing the staple of life. "A hamburger and french fries please." He smiled and said, "Good deal! With oat a doat, eh?"

I was pleased to see my meal come quickly. Friendly AND quick. I must note this place for later, I thought to myself.

Unfortunately, something was missing. I searched my table and the surrounding tables. My object of desire was not there.

"Excuse me," I asked the waiter. "Could I get some ketchup?"

"Eh?" was the response.

"Ketchup," I countered. "For my french fries."

"Oh! Hoe aboat some gravy, eh?"

Gravy? For my friggin' french fries? I was puzzled. I looked around at the others in the restaraunt. To my own disbelief I did indeed see people dipping their french fries in gravy. Who puts gravy on their french fries? And it wasn't just any gravy, it was brown gravy. This is the worst kind of gravy. I would rank it as the most evil of gravys.

Was I eating in Lucifer's Bar & Grill?

Before you label me as a racist and want to call the NAABG (National Association for the Advancement of Brown Gravy), go down to your local Cracker Barrel and check out their southern white gravy. Boy howdy, that stuff is good eatin'. Especially on the chicken fried chicken! To top off the experience buy some lovely crafts in the country store. There are some items that would look good on my office door...if I had one.

My head hung heavy as I was leaving the establishment. What happened to "Friendly and quick"? Who among the sane of humanity would put gravy on their french fries?

The dawning of realization hit...

Oh yeah, Canada.

I erased my note I made earlier about the place and went back to work. I had some 'thats' to fix.