by Mike Strong on Sat Jun 07, 2008 8:33 am
Halfway between Las Vegas and Kingman Arizona there is a funky little place known as Rosie's Den. Out in the middle of nowhere Rosie's is one part biker bar, one part cafe; Rosie's is a slice of Americana that, like most slices of Americana has a creepy "Children of The Corn" vibe, you know, it's the kind of place that you half suspect of being a weigh -station for an underground network of sex-slave traders, ...
... so I fit right in.
It's where I go to buy Power Ball tickets once every five weeks, ...
... and this morning I decided to have the Hot Cakes.
I had heard that they were as big as flying saucers, but I had no idea that they were LITERALLY the size of flying saucers!
The cute little waiteress wearing a dog collar asked me if I wanted the half-stack, or THE FULL - STACK, ...
... - Was that a glint of evil in her eyes?
I brashly ordered the full-stack, and the wizend little desert rat having a conversation with himself at the end of the counter started to cackel insanely, as the short order cook and the dish washer eyed me with contempt from the window to the kitchen.
As students of Chinese philosophy we all know that SunTze said one should never go into battle unless victory is assured, ...
... well, SunTze would have ordered the half-stack, and said, " I'm not even thinking about finishing this".
When the Hot Cakes were brought out to me I coouldn't believe my eyes, and my colan spasimed involintarily with fear.
They hung over the edge of a 12 inch platter, steamming, hot, - mocking me.
A half a pound of margin and 8 ounces of imitation maple syrup later, ...
... I threw in the napkin.
I was done, and I hadn't even put a dent into 'em.
As I write this I have so much Bisquick in my sytsem that I'm in an altered state of consciousness, - and my eyes are heavy with sleep. I'm going to crash now, and with a little luck ...
... I won't shit the bed.
good night
Last edited by Mike Strong on Sat Jun 07, 2008 8:44 am, edited 2 times in total.