Sunday Night Fried Chicken…

It’s that time of the week again: Sunday night fried chicken.  Dad just just called me and asked me what I wanted.

“Just get me whatever is easiest on you and Charlie,” I told my father.

“Charlie and Papa are coming!” I then told Maggie who got in the den window to lookout for them.

I am not a picky or finicky eater.  Dad said I would probably be getting Popeye’s fried chicken and biscuits this week.  The only thing I don’t like about Popeye’s is their frying batter is too crunchy for my tastes.  It is hard for me to chew.

“We’ll take your medications and do Maggie’s ritual once Charlie and I get there,” my father told me.

“Sounds like a good plan!” I told my father.

I was exuberant they were running so early tonight. They may even get here before dark fall.   It doesn’t take much to get me excited these days.