What Goes In Must Come Out

We went to Disneyland for the day, just for the hell of it. That’s how we roll. On the way home we stopped at IKEA for some disposable dishware. They were closed for their holiday party. Whatever. After a day of ice cream, kettle corn and Karl Strauss beer I didn’t need any freaking meatballs anyway. We went to In-N-Out.

I should state for the record that my wife is on a health kick. She tries to eat right, go to the gym and TiVo The Biggest Loser. I drink too much and watch football. She placed the order and then said, “I did something special to our order.”

Great. I figured I had a Double-Double protein style coming my way, or worse, some sort of bean patty treat. Nope. Animal.

Our fries were “animal style”. This is a thing In-N-Out does were they take every edible product in their kitchen, some still pending FDA approval, and throw it all in a little cardboard boat to top some perfectly fine and unsuspecting freedom french fries. It’s like eating the lining from Dom Deluise’s stomach- but better!

It tasted freaking great. It’s the kind of food you regret eating before you even take a bite. I ate it anyway. Regret and I don’t speak much. I found myself chewing slowly before finally breathing a sigh of relief when I noticed there was an ambulance nearby. You can never be too careful.

I got it all in, but something tells me regret is getting the last laugh on this one. I’m sending my medical bill to IKEA.

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