Last week, my oldest son had his first Tiger Cub Scouts den meeting. Needless to say, he was extremely excited and wanted to put on his uniform several hours before we left for the meeting. He did so and then inspected himself in the mirror with narrowed eyes and serious face, seeing in his reflection, no doubt, the future echoes of adventure and woodcraft and finally being allowed to own a real knife. As my better half was out with our younger hooligan, I made the mistake of taking my son out to Der Wienerschnitzel for dinner. He loves their corn dogs.
About twice annually I make the grave error of eating at that wicked shrine to calories. I knew I had made a mistake as soon as we walked through the door, but it was too late. If we had turned around and left, my son would have demanded a somewhat logical explanation that I would’ve been unable to create, seeing that calories and grease and other such things are even more nonsensical to him than why he isn’t allowed to stuff a dozen marshmallows in his face at one time.
When our order came (it was a modest order, as I refrained from ordering any of the more blatantly dangerous items on the menu), the staff had seen fit to award us with a free serving of something called Chili Cheese Fries. On my honor, I’ve never eaten such a thing in my life. I tasted it, and then wondered if the staff ever did complimentary heart surgery in the back room. Interestingly enough, I also noticed on the menu an offering called Ultimate Chili Cheese Fries, subtitled “Guaranteed to Kill You in Sixty Seconds or Your Money Back.”
While my body sought to cope with the food, I wondered, given the name of the restaurant, whether the chain had originally started as part of the Third Reich’s long-range plan to defeat the United States. I suppose if you cannot win on the conventional battlefield, defeating an enemy with hot dogs is just as effective.
The Tiger Cub Scouts meeting, on the other hand, was excellent.