who knows what they did
I was painting at Bob Bandit's house last night and he brought me back some KFC Crispy Strips from south St. Pete. I guess there was a little bit of drama in the drivethrough. ( Bob was in his Hummer 2 (Ext) with spinning rims and trophy girlfriend.)
"They were out of 'extra-crispy,' so the KFC dude told me to go pull in the alley and wait for my order. I said, 'you got goddamn bullet proof glass on your window and forty-two of your friends peekin' at me over the wall. I'm not gonna go pull in the goddamn alley.'"
The KFC drivethrough guy insisted that Bob had to pull into the alley and wait like everyone else, or else he would have to call the police.
"You go ahead and call the motherfuckin' police," Bob said, taking his keys out of the ignition and dropping them in his lap. "I'm not goin' anywhere until I get my extra-crispy."
Bob was telling this story to me and Joe Venuti on the following morning, while we were dining in a Waffle House, in Elllenton.
"Fuck man, I wouldn't have even takin' the food at that point," Joe Venuti said. "Who knows what they did to your food after that."
"It wasn't my food I was waiting on," Bob said. "It was Mark's."
(In case you don't know who "Mark" is, it's me. The writer of this blog.)
6:51:46 PM 
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