1) Tony Hawk poster
2) Pictures of my niece
3) A cheap painting of an African Warrior, standing in a field
4) 2 or 3 different pictures of this one girl’s grandmother
5) A framed picture of 2 autistic boys that this one girl I banged used to babysit
I did comedy tonight.
I just Google-imaged “amish funeral”
So yesterday was Valentine’s Day. I’m single. I could’ve went gambling or hit up a singles bar. Nope, did none of those things. I instead decided to go to Roscoe’s House of Chicken and Waffles over by Pico and Crenshaw. And I must say, it was quite an evening…
I walked in and saw a bunch of merch. My dumb ass forgot to take pix. But it’s nothing special. Just t-shirts and trucker hats. Also there were nice Roscoe’s pins that I could have put on my jacket next to my buttons (which include Albert Einstein) but those fuckers were $12! Call me cheap but they could have been at least six. Highway robbery?
I sat at my own private table. The waitress was a cute black lady and she never told me her name, so I’m just going to go ahead and make one up for her. “Vonteesha” was very friendly and polite, and made my Roscoe’s experience a pure delight.
Well, duh. I picked #1… The Scoes! Yep, 2 pieces of fried chicken and 2 waffles. Straight up. No filler. Although there were other items of interest on the menu – if you have a hankering for biscuits and gravy, Roscoe’s does not disappoint in that department. I hoped they would have chopped fried chicken strips and waffle parts in a big giant burrito, filled with butter, hot sauce and syrup, but I don’t think they do. Plus, I forgot to ask Vonteesha if they do. They probably don’t. But if they did, I’d call it “The Anvil”.
As I waited for my food to arrive, I walked around. A lot of nice black people paintings were adorning the walls. I also wondered if this was the same Roscoe’s that was featured in Tape Heads. I don’t think it was. But then they had a flat screen TV that featured “Roscoe’s TV”. They have their own channel? I hope it’s Amen reruns. But it looks like there’s soap opera drama as well as some gospel music (not too far removed from Amen).
I was so anxious and hungry! Where was my food, goddamnit? This was me and my mood. Also, I took into account that I wasn’t going to get laid that night because I don’t have a girlfriend and that along with my own hunger joined forces and made me so sad!
Suddenly, Vonteesha dropped off at my table, the most inviting, delicious-looking, fat-making, cholesterol-pumping plate of goddamn deliciousness, right in front of me. My stomach had an erection that only the delicious, secret herb spiced chicken and syrup-drenched sweet waffles could fellate. I slowly, carefully, ate every inch of succulent chicken, dabbed some Louisiana Hot Sauce on those strips of tender meat, and even dabbed said meat on the syrup that was smothering my equally delicious, sweet, tasty waffles, butter soaking on each layer, syrup drowning that as well. I finished it in about 20 minutes.
This was me afterwards. I had died and went to fat person heaven. I should make it a yearly tradition to visit the House of Chicken and Waffles, for it was truly a marvelous, joyous, and unforgettable time. Happy Valentine’s, Roscoe!
Note: I didn’t want to sound like a downer throughout this exciting, inviting piece, but later that night I had diarrhea. I blame the syrup.