He's Just a High Strung Kind of Guy...

The Double Doubler

Charlie called me last hour headed to our Kentucky Fried Chicken. He was calling from his cellphone in the Caprica and the traffic and static made him almost inaudible. It's highway 29. What can you expect?

"Jon-Ton, what do you want for your supper?" Charlie asked me quite inquisitively.

"Just get me two of KFC's chicken sandwiches," I replied

That seemed simple enough, don't you think? I was trying to make it simple on our Charlie -- having to go to only one place for all our meals. Dad had gotten this sandwich a few weeks ago and said it was pretty good. One just won't fill me up, though.

Charlie called again. This time from inside KFC.

"They are out of the *bleeping* bread for their chicken sandwiches," Charlie told me along with quite a few other choice profanities as well. "What kind of chicken place runs out of their *bleeping* chicken sandwich? I am just going to get you a Big Mac from next door."

Charlie knows I like a Big Mac about as good as the next Big Mac aficionado. I didn't push my luck and ask for the grand Big Mac.

We took my medications aka Crazy Meds when Charlie arrived at my house. Oh, that icy Coca-Cola tasted so good. Charlie was still fuming over the chicken sandwiches.