The Siren call of the White Gravy (yes, something that good must be capitalized!) at the Cracker Barrel was too loud and insistent for me to ignore today. I dined there for my breakfast when I found that I was too late for breakfast at my hotel. Unfortunately, once I backed out of the trough, I was required to drive several hours and then take a customer out for lunch. (Breakfast was sitting oh-so-heavy in the breadbasket.) I ate a salad, just so the customer wouldn't feel odd about eating by himself. I could of easily skipped the entire meal.
This evening, the Siren beckoned me back to the trough once again, and I found myself trotting across the parking lot to answer the luscious, sultry, beckoning call of the White Gravy.
Next week, I swear I can't stay in this hotel. My Southern Bloodline gets all fired up when I'm in St. Louis and I just crave White Gravy. I must move further away from Cracker Barrel, I must move further away from Cracker Barrel, I must move closer to Cracker Barrel, I must move closer to Cracker Barrel…..
Perhaps next week I can find double fried chicken with waffles, maple syrup and White Gravy. That sounds wonderful, does it not?
The Quest has begun.
1 comment:
Too funny Steve. Such hidden secrets you have.
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