Saturday morning found four of us gathered on the fine-eats side of the Burdock awaiting our customary weekend breakfast.
Chet calls out to Twisty who is serving the Eats side, "Four of the Barn-door Breakfasts."
Twisty makes a quick check on her order-pad, and then calls back to Paula who’s working the grill, "Four Barney-Bum Blasters, right off the grill!"
Twisty pours us each a mug of coffee, hot and straight. And a merciful change of pace from the murky green pop we usually got with pizzia.
"You’all ought to try a plate of our breakfast fajitas," Twisty offers, "Has to be better on your insides than Barney Blasters."
Lem dumps some ice water into the Black-jack, "Healthy food, tried it once when I was a kid and didn’t know no better."
"Well it’s good enough for Ernie," Twisty points out. We all look over to see where Ernie Stubbs sits in a booth intent on reading a comic book he’s borrowed from the town barbering establishment.
"That’s Ernie," Chet points out as Ernie cuts out another forkful of fajita, "When he gets behind a comic book, he doesn’t notice much else."
"And Judge ‘Patrick, Y’all know him, don’t you?"
Myself, Chet, and Lem reflexively nod and try to keep a low profile.
"Barney-Blasters Up!" Paula calls out from the grill.
While Twisty goes to retreive our Barny-Blasters, we at the table quickly take stock of our favorite battles of catsup, steak, yellow mustard, and hot sauces to khave them within easy reach. Something we had picked up and retained from school.
The Barney Blaster was made up of eggs, some sort of hash-browned potatoies, and whatever showed up in the refrigerator from the night before.
This might be meatloaf, or maybe ham, or poorman’s steak, and could just as easily end up with waffles, cheese sandwich, or hot dog, just pretty much was leftover from the night before and that Paula didn’t want to have thrown out.
It was better to just don’t ask what was in it and keep a collection o0f your favored bottled-condiments close by.