Baker’s Dozen – Mystery meat
Prices went up again and the Isabella Poker Club once again complained with the energy normally found in a Jack Russell-Belgian Malinois cross on meth.
The complaints started just as soon as the first one saw the new chalkboard menu. More joined. A riot threatened. Mo raised a meat cleaver. Peanut opened his mouth to say something. The cleaver slammed into the wall above his head.
Peanut wisely closed his mouth. Everyone, including Peanut, politely sat down in a chair, a booth, on the floor, on a windowsill, a 5-gallon hydraulic fluid bucket or each other.
Chef Lo Phat Ham (his parents are from Canada) never turned away from the giant griddle where various things sizzled and popped, creating that famous atmospheric smell of vaporized grease, burned toast and fish. Chef Ham was shaking his head, so we could tell he wasn’t too happy about the price increase as well.
“I ain’t happy about it neither,” Mo said. “My suppliers done gone up on everything, especially the meat. I gots two choices. I can cut down on the amount of meat per serving” — the chorus of “Oh _ _ _ _ NO!” rang loud and clear through Mo’s 5-Star Country Diner, Used Cars, Stump Removal, Friday Night Sushi Bar, Saturday Morning Fresh Cut Bait, Tanning Emporium and Fast Tax Preparation Service.
“Or I can go up on the prices,” Mo finished after the thunder died.
Much grumbling and almost-audible complaints rolled back and forth like Norwegian soccer fans doing the Viking Rowing on the way to a World Cup game.
“They done increased the price on all the meat?” asked Toe Cramp, founder, president and sole member of the Indignant Riders Motorcycle Club.
“All of it,” Mo replied. You could also hear the tears in his voice.
“What about the vegetables?” asked Dr. I Ben Hurten.
“Naw. I still get all that from Wart and Cathead. I make sure to get enough to take to the canning plant to put up for the winter,” Mo said. “They gone up a little, but not enough to matter. Ain’t like y’all eat any vegetables except greens, butterbeans and peas.”
“What about the flour and cornmeal?” Larry “Hawgin’” Fishbreath asked. “You can’t be charging more for biscuits and cornbread, can you?”
Mo tapped the chalkboard with another meat cleaver that magically appeared in his hand.
Lo Fat reached over and took it away. “No. That’s my good one,” he said. He replaced it with a Radio Ranch Cabbage Cutter Special, 8 inches of dirt-cheap steel that held a cutting edge like a laser for an entire row of cabbage or collards. The Bouncer at the Radio Ranch carried a dozen in a bandolier across his chest. He gave you one when you went if you didn’t have a weapon.
More grumbling.
“Hey. Maybe we can help with the meat thing,” Skeeter said. “You care what kinda meat it is?”
“Y’all eating it. Do you care?” Mo asked.
Low conversations started. A few minutes later, “How much freezer space you got?” Mo said, “Enough.” Skeeter said, “We got this.”
For a while to come, if you choose to dine at Mo’s FSCDUCSRFNSBSMFCBTEFTPS (say that 3 times fast), and order the hamburger, I hope you have an adventurous palate. No telling what you will be eating.
