Pancakes, anyone?

[oldman9x7]

I made some pancakes for breakfaxt this morning and having a couple left over, I cut them up and gave them to our dog. She sniffed at them and took one bit and turned and looked at me as if to say, "What the hell is this?"

It reminded me of a happening years ago when I lived in a small town in Southern California. I was hanging out at a local cafe at closing time when several State Patrolmen came in for coffee. Also there, besides the owner, was a town character who had at one time been the town constable but was, at this time, a hog feeder and local garbage man named Walt. When the cops came in and ordered coffee, Walt jumped up and asked if they'd like for him to make them some pancakes. Facing a night on the road, they were happy with the suggestion so Walt turned the fire up under the grill and whipped up a bowlful of batter. He poured out about six cakes on the grill and when they were done he stacked them up, walked to the front door and threw them OUT! One of the young cops asked, "Why did you do that?" To which Walt replied, "Oh, the first batch is never any good." Looking out the window in the door, the cop said, "Well, that dog out there doesn't seem to think they're so bad." Walt answered, "Yeah. Well, keep your eye on that dog. Directly he'll be lickin' his ass to get the taste out of his mouth!?

Gramps

 

[oldman9x7]

That little California town (see above) had more than its share of characters. I recall another incedent when, on a hot summer's day, several of the locals were sitting in the one and only tavern to keep cool when the door opened. Everyone turned to see who the newcomer might be and were surprised to see a fairly tall fellow who was dressed up ultra Western - cowboy boots, huge belt buckle, big Stetson hat and all.

One of the bar bunch was an older, smallish man who ALWAYS wore a vest. The guys all called him Banty, I suppose because he was like a Bantam rooster - alway ready for anything OR anybody. Well, as soon as everyone had looked the new man over, Banty tipped back in his chair, hooked his thumbs in the sleeve holes of his vest and announced, "Yes Sir! Show me a Texan and I'll show you a son-of-a-bitch."

At this point all of the regulars were devoutly wishing that the local pub had a back door (which it didn't) because they wanted to leave before the joint blew up. However, as it happened, after a long pause the man walked slowly over and as he stood looking down at Banty announced, "Mister, I"M a Texan!" Banty let his chair down on four legs, stood up and sticking out his hand announced, "Well, I'M a son-of-a-bitch!!!"

The guy stood there for a moment as though he'd been poleaxed but then he started to laugh - as did everyone else. The upshot of it was that he stayed till closing that night and paid for all drinks served from the bar.

Of course, word of the episode got all over town in record time - especially the part about the "free" bar and in this small town the people who could drink large quantities of pro bono booze were legion. That Texan may have been well entertained that day but I'm sure it cost him.

Gramps