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$4.75 Fried Catfish Po-boy
by R.G Magellan
by R.G Magellan
They had been drinking too much the night before. Too fucking much. They had sent whatever was on their mind to a chain reaction of peers, coworkers, family members, best friends, girlfriends, acquaintances, and miscellaneous companions. This was the only thing they could be possibly eager to experience. It's hard to come back from something like that. It's alright. But to assume nothing and everything is changing would be such a headache. Right now, they just wanted to eat the po-boy.
They walked the hellish 3 blocks from their house to the grocery store. In a 81 degree weather with 90% humidity this seemed less than a 3pm stroll and more like a test of endurance. And so they got to the counter and heard:
“What can I get you”?
“Fried catfish sandwich and some fries, please” - they said.
“15m. You want a drink?”
“I'll get myself something from the fridge” (con-t)
They walked the hellish 3 blocks from their house to the grocery store. In a 81 degree weather with 90% humidity this seemed less than a 3pm stroll and more like a test of endurance. And so they got to the counter and heard:
“What can I get you”?
“Fried catfish sandwich and some fries, please” - they said.
“15m. You want a drink?”
“I'll get myself something from the fridge” (con-t)