Why I Got Written Up by the Manager at Uncle Earl’s World-Famous Bar-B-Q
Smother me in redneck kisses. Pour that smoky Bar-B-Q down my neck and lick it off, no rush. Time disappears, I’m boneless, honey-glazed, on fire in the walk-in freezer. We breathe in the popsicle air, so attuned, knocking over packages of hand-cut fries, nobody’s hand cut those fries, they’re damned crinkle cuts, people can be so stupid, like we’re stupid now. I let him walk out before me. Brandon’s bitching about the line, no such thing as a smoke break, and did I bring the key lime pie?
I tug my bra straps back up, say: We’re out of pie.
Photo Credit: Greg Williams
Nasty Girl!
Love this. So funny and rich in imagery.
Wow. This is amazing. I wish I could come up with a more detailed compliment, but just wow. Great work!
So existentially, dead-faced funny. Prank me anytime.