Ain’t Nothin’ But A Hound Hog

Posted by on August 12, 2013
Are you sincere?

Are you sincere?

While shoppin’ around for an interesting restaurant, I received a tip about a certain regal barbecue restaurant. There is so much world to see that I can’t always be aware of every new culinary craze, so I decided to give it a try. Normally such a mission wouldn’t be permitted under Federal Bureau of Foreign Culinary Relations rules, but in keeping with other recent events, we have now been cleared to perform domestic operations. Fortunately (for them) or unfortunately, all of the other FBFCR agents were on other assignments, including one that involved investigating some strange snacking situations in Siberia. This left me to tackle this tremendous task on my own.

When I pulled in to the designated location, I found a small pink building that could have passed for a beach shack. I immediately noticed a sign that advertised a BBQ beef sundae, and I thought to myself, “I think I’m gonna like it here.” Another sign made mention of a peanut butter and banana sandwich. At this point, I started to get an idea of what I would be getting into.

I carefully entered the small pink building (not really in the ghetto, at least not that much), and I was greeted by an amazing array of carefully chosen decorations. At this point I briefly thought, “I really don’t want to know.” But a mission is a mission, and I knew I had to complete this one, whatever the cost.

Do you know who I am?

Do you know who I am?

After looking over the menu for a few moments, I got the attention of the man with the apron strings and prepared to place my order. I arrived after the lunch rush, so I was first in line. I briefly considered ordering one of the traditional BBQ offerings, but my adventurous nature tried to convince me otherwise. “Alright, okay, you win,” I said to myself, and I ordered the peanut butter and banana sandwich, the BBQ beef sundae, and a tutti frutti soda in a can. I paid with my card (who needs money?), and the man asked me if I’d be bringin’ it back or if I’d be eating it there. I didn’t want to miss out on any of the atmosphere, so I took a seat at a table.

After a few minutes, the man behind the counter assured me, “it won’t be long.” After a little while, he brought me the sandwich, the sundae, and my soda. I noticed that a few things were different from what I expected (the menu is almost always true). Instead of getting all shook up over this, I asked the man to tell me why the sandwich was made with dried banana chips, and why the cherry tomato was missing from the beef sundae. At first he was a bit evasive, and simply said, “don’t ask me why.” I continued to press him, and he finally explained that a rather large man wearing blue suede shoes had eaten up all of the ingredients. I demanded to speak with this gluttonous gourmand, but the waiter told me that he’d left the building some time ago.

Is it so strange?

Is it so strange?

As I was finishing my lunch, the man behind the counter brought me a cinnamon roll, and explained that they will be serving these starting next week. All I could say to him is, “thank you, thank you very much.”

I don’t know if this establishment will achieve fame and fortune, or if I’ll be back. But I do know this: I’ll probably never again encounter such a strange smorgasbord.

Some events have been fictionalized for comedic effect. No Elvis songs were harmed in the production of this article.

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