KEEP FORGETTING TO REMEMBER TO FORGET
Chopped pork sandwich, chips, and a coke. Sturt, what do you want?
The same.
Two chopped pork sandwiches, two chips, two cokes.
Lady old and thin and quivering like spoon bread took the order. She didn't say anything and she didn't write down anything. She smelled like moth balls and Witch Hazel, a relic sequestered to an attic without access.
Heard steady thump of butcher's knife, the thin heavy blade bashing through butt and shoulder and turning the soft stringy meat into brown mash and then wetted with sauce auburn and astringent. Hank Williams Jr played softly from the kitchen. Glasses clinked. People grumbled and smacked and chewed.
Tall thin cracker hunkered over heaving plate of 'cue and onion rings, his mustache insectoid and glistening with sauce. He wore a blue blazer and white chinos and loafers without socks and he wore a bright aqua polo with the collar upturned and people pointed and gestured towards him while they ate.
Lady old and thin brought him a small glass of water and sleeve of Alka Seltzer. He thanked her and plopped the tablets in the water and they fizzed and he drank the frothing mess in a single motion and wiped his mouth and ketchuped his rings.
Who is that man?
Dunno. But he looks wealthy. Looks important.
The tall thin cracker sat two tables away from us. But we could smell him and he reeked something sour and wrong and he sweat through his shirt and began to quiver himself as spoon bread and pushed his plate aside and asked for a to-go container.
Lady old and thin brought our sandwiches and set two Coca-Colas down and two bags of Lay's Potato Chips. The thump of the butcher's blade stopped.
Tell me something, m'am.
...
Who's the gentleman sitting right there? Is he someone famous?
Lady old and thin smiled and chuckled.
He's someone pained to death is what he is. His Bulldogs got stomped with the hobnail boot yesterday afternoon and he aint fit to walk amongst the livin.
She walked off and the thump of the butcher's blade began again.
The same.
Two chopped pork sandwiches, two chips, two cokes.
Lady old and thin and quivering like spoon bread took the order. She didn't say anything and she didn't write down anything. She smelled like moth balls and Witch Hazel, a relic sequestered to an attic without access.
Heard steady thump of butcher's knife, the thin heavy blade bashing through butt and shoulder and turning the soft stringy meat into brown mash and then wetted with sauce auburn and astringent. Hank Williams Jr played softly from the kitchen. Glasses clinked. People grumbled and smacked and chewed.
Tall thin cracker hunkered over heaving plate of 'cue and onion rings, his mustache insectoid and glistening with sauce. He wore a blue blazer and white chinos and loafers without socks and he wore a bright aqua polo with the collar upturned and people pointed and gestured towards him while they ate.
Lady old and thin brought him a small glass of water and sleeve of Alka Seltzer. He thanked her and plopped the tablets in the water and they fizzed and he drank the frothing mess in a single motion and wiped his mouth and ketchuped his rings.
Who is that man?
Dunno. But he looks wealthy. Looks important.
The tall thin cracker sat two tables away from us. But we could smell him and he reeked something sour and wrong and he sweat through his shirt and began to quiver himself as spoon bread and pushed his plate aside and asked for a to-go container.
Lady old and thin brought our sandwiches and set two Coca-Colas down and two bags of Lay's Potato Chips. The thump of the butcher's blade stopped.
Tell me something, m'am.
...
Who's the gentleman sitting right there? Is he someone famous?
Lady old and thin smiled and chuckled.
He's someone pained to death is what he is. His Bulldogs got stomped with the hobnail boot yesterday afternoon and he aint fit to walk amongst the livin.
She walked off and the thump of the butcher's blade began again.
Labels: Lewis Grizzard, Old South, Sprayberry's Barbecue
posted by GSV JR at
6:13 AM
4 Comments:
Looks like Sprayberry's to me!
Indeed.
Damnit, i'd say this is just as good as being there, but i'm guessing being there was better... still good readin is second to good eatin.
z
Seeing Lewis Grizzard in the flesh and obviously dangerously hungover was way better than the food.
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