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Saturday, June 25, 2011

124







You know, there is nothing like looking at an old place with a fresh pair of eyes.

Ok, the burger joint was still quite new; hell, it still had that new car smell, so to speak. But it was growing a bit stale for me.







Sean had never been there, and neither had Minacca. For him, it was due to his prolonged hostibal stay for a collapsed, punctured lung. For her, it was because she ate healthily. Minacca was not one of those healthy eaters who seem to feel the need to preach to everyone within hearing distance about their own life choices and pursuits.



She was quiet, unassuming and smart, but not without judgment. You simply did not know what she was thinking unless you asked her, or if she thought it might be dire for you to not take warning.



Minacca would do that for me, and you will see, in a short while.


I did not expect a savior, and one in the form of a female.


+++++++++++++++++++




Sean’s eyes widened as we rumbled into the parking lot. He began to drool and scratch at the door to be let out. Well, OK, he simply said, “They really fixed up this place. Wasn’t it a Jack and Jean store before?”



It was true. Too many stores that sold acid-washed denim clothing had opened recently, and the old stalwart of the deep dark blue jeans had refused to partake of what they’d obviously felt was a simple fad.



They were wrong about acid-washed denim being a short-lived fad. It blew up for half a decade, along with the mullet hair style and parachute pants. And in closing up shop, they underestimated the longevity of the true blue denim; an American invention that most likely will endure to the end of time.


God bless Levi Jeans, just sayin.’





Sean struggled to get out of my little Celica. I ran around to assist him, and Minacca had a look on her face that revealed a bit of anxiousness, for being stuck in the rear seat. When she did emerge, her tanned, shapely legs were the first things to appear in the bright sunshine from the recess of my little rocket ship.

After Sean had slid into my car back at the hostibal, I'd let Minacca crawl into the rear behind my driver seat.

Ahem.



Now, if you think that I had eyes for my friend’s lady, well, you would be correct. But you also must know that eyes were all I had. It would never go beyond that with my friends’ ladies, for me. An eyeful is not a mouthful. A peek is not a poke.


True that baby.



We followed Sean up the red adobe-tiled steps, him wheezing, Minacca after him with her jiggly rear and long legs that ended down past her dainty ankles in high heels. I was studying the rosary beads in my hand as I followed them up the stairs.




Um, huh.




We walked into the brightly lit welcome area, with shiny, sealed amber tiles on the floor and deep-stained oak everywhere. Bright brass held everything in place.



I studied Sean’s face as he took it all in. It was something to see. His eyes glanced around at the vintage, local farm grape and orange crate decals that were framed and glassed in on every wall.




That kind of detail will always purchase buy-in and loyalty from the dining guests. I truly think that Fucky Chucky’s invented it, and since that time, twenty-five years ago, it has been copied everywhere else in the food service world.



I poked his shoulder to get him to look at the bakery shop where the huge burger buns and deserts were made. The smell of freshly baked bread enveloped his senses. He had a look of almost pure joy.


Dude would be gaining some weight on that day.




We stood in line to place our orders, and I snuck off to grab the hostess Shirlene who showed folks to their tables. I explained to her about Sean, and she nodded. I went back to Sean and Minacca, soon Shirlene appeared and went directly to one of the cashiers, whispered something in her ear, and then headed to Sean, and spoke in a loud voice.


“Sir, welcome here. Please, folks, allow this gentleman and his escorts to the head of the line. This is his dying wish.”


I couldn’t have scripted it any better. People frigging clapped with solemn, stolid faces.


Of course, our girl Stacy was open for business. She greeted Sean with a big smile, and I watched him check out her prodigious décolletage. No jealousy from me dude.



Of course, Sean ordered the three-half pound patties, medium rare. He ordered the platter of hand-made steak fries, and was told by Stacy about the cauldron of cheese sauce that awaited his debauchery. And then we were done ordering. The mile-long salad bar of burger toppings awaited. Sean stopped and explored it with adulterous eyes. He was going to rape that bar.


Soon enough, our order was delivered to our table, and we were told to go help ourselves to whatever we wanted.


Minacca held me back as Sean ambled up to the burger topping bar.




“I saw how she was watching you. What’s up with that?”

“Uh, who?”




“Stacy. Something is going on with you and her.”

“No, …well, not yet.”



Minacca judged me quietly for a moment, then she said, “Will. Something is going here.”

I looked back at Stacy, and then back to Minacca and shrugged. “Like what?.”




“Look around. Open your eyes, Will.”


I glanced around at the servers in the dining area and saw that some of the girls working there kept looking over at me. I had never noticed such looks before. I had been staring at my own shoes, working there. I was involved with only myself. …Until I took advantage of those young women, that is.

Each time.




Minacca smiled in a dry sort of way. “Those girls have their eye on you. Why? What have you been doing here? They look like they have seen a ghost.”




Now I was seeing that place with a new set of eyes.



Minacca’s eyes.







LINKS



Goodbye Columbo, God Rest Your Soul.








For your Saturday cartoon viewing pleasure, The Medic. It’s also a free forever game to play. Free. Forever. You’re welcome.







Speaking of healing, U.S. scientists can now grow back the lost limbs of our military amputees. Bring it on terrorists. Link has autoplay on an ad, but short and sfw.





On a similar note, here's a nice little Terminator 2 cartoon/ stop animation short.








On a dissimilar note, The Burglar.









Two racing motorcycles embrace and dance together.






I really need to go check my Facebook, it’s been a month… Sorry.









God Help You.

God Help Us All.


---willies out.
















OK, One More For Ya.




Slightly nsfw pics of Ewelina Olczak. Just look, don’t pronounce.









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