Ratburger Deluxe

I love reading news stories about innocent restaurant patrons who find gruesome things in their food. Fingers, toes, ears, mouse heads, tarantula chunks, moose droppings–-it makes my day when items like these find their way into some unlucky Kansan’s Taco Bell. Is this sadistic of me? I hope not. And if I am evil, I feel it’s tempered a bit by the fact that I wouldn’t mind if such a thing happened to me. If this literary career doesn’t work out, I’d be perfectly happy to be known as that guy who found a bat in his Cheez-Its or a whole bunch of toenail clippings in his Moon Over My Hammy. I bet you get a generous settlement from the faceless food service conglomerate when that happens. I bet you could finance a nice trip to Spain with your “I’m sorry something dead wound up in your dessert” pay-off.