Hangin' at the Snack Shack
As it stands right now, there's a tub of feta cheese crumbles and a 12-pack of beer in my refrigerator. And I needed sustenance.
So I headed for my neighborhood greasy spoon, the Snack Shack, for a fortified breakfast of grease, pork meats, pancakes and shitty coffee. The Thursday special was a pancake sammie; two pancakes, two pieces of link sausage and an egg (over-medium).
It's the kind of place that attracts old farts in the morning and construction workers for the great burgers at lunch. Family owned and run, they take care of you.
It's the kind of place that if you went for three consecutive mornings, you'd be a regular.
Overheard:
Old guy in shorts and suspenders: "Went to CostCo yesterday, got myself two cases of beer and these new shorts here."
Counter lady: "Well, at least you have your priorities in line."
So I headed for my neighborhood greasy spoon, the Snack Shack, for a fortified breakfast of grease, pork meats, pancakes and shitty coffee. The Thursday special was a pancake sammie; two pancakes, two pieces of link sausage and an egg (over-medium).
It's the kind of place that attracts old farts in the morning and construction workers for the great burgers at lunch. Family owned and run, they take care of you.
It's the kind of place that if you went for three consecutive mornings, you'd be a regular.
Overheard:
Old guy in shorts and suspenders: "Went to CostCo yesterday, got myself two cases of beer and these new shorts here."
Counter lady: "Well, at least you have your priorities in line."
Comments
Speaking of such manly things, when do I get a chance to ply you with cigars and Scotch and talk about the great prairie adventure?