I went into a convenience store this morning. Had to get a gut-grenade breakfast burrito. Felt like taking some risks with my cardio-vascular future. Anybody familiar with Allsups? I am not a cook - that's Jackson's job - and I am not nearly as discriminating as I should be with my nutritional choices. But even I normally steer very clear of the Allsup's fried burritos. But sometimes...
Everybody does it. Sometimes. When a group of friends gets together and start sharing secrets, certain things always happen. Somebody will always eventually bring up the burritos. (Although if you've recently imbibed, the burritos will come up on their own.) At first, you'll deny it, but you won't be able to meet anyone's eyes. Then you will come clean as you pick at the taco sauce stain on your jacket. You will admit that you too sometimes hear the siren song of the belly bomb. And then someone else will sit up a little straighter, get some backbone in their voice and inform the group that this week you can get two burritos and a tallsup for a buck-ninety-nine. And you know then what you're having for lunch. Yeah.
So, anyway, today I went in search of a sausage and egg burrito. Fried. With extra taco sauce. As I perused the lineup in the hellish heat-lamp diorama, I saw a small sign in the bottom right-hand corner: "Allsup's catfish - cooked on request."
Perhaps I need to rethink my life insurance coverage.