Bunch of Lunch

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It's probably like eating in Shakey's Pizza place. The smell of baking pies greases up the ol' appetite for a family size Manager's Choice, the green bell peppers cooked perfectly to compliment the brown sausage bits resting on a bed of tomato paste and mozzarella cheese. You sit down on one of those dark red leather seats for couples and you patiently wait for the waiter to take your order. The Friday didn't mark a payday weekend so you're off to getting one of those meals for the budget-conscious. Bunch of Lunch. It's always safe when you don't know what else to order.

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So there you are, with your date, your plate a disarray of fast food. The anaemic spaghetti convoluted like your decision-making, the slice of triangular bread with ham and a sprinkle of cheese -- this they call a single pizza slice. Still single, like you. Shreads of stale lettuce, corn bits like yellow droppings, a slice of tomato that looks like a broken wheel -- a thousand excuses to bail out like generic dressing made of catsup and mayonnaise. An overfried chicken drumstick that's probably remains of the day before.

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But hey ... where're the MOJOS??? I can't find my mojo!!!

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Perhaps my date has them hidden, somewhere under the table from where we've been playing footsie in the dark.

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