Botched Botany: Local Man with No Culinary or Horticulture Experience Fails to Grow Unique Plant

[ 3 Comments ] Posted by Terry Klytar on 06.23.08 under Culinary Horticulture, Terry's Posts, Uncategorized

 

Many American families have turned to hybrid automobiles to cut down on surging gas costs. Others have had to relocate or postpone summer vacations, look for employment closer to home or rely on carpooling or public transportation. In some way or another, a great majority of Americans have had to make adjustments to how they go about their lives as the rising price of fuel continues to offer no mercy. For Leroy D’Jackson it meant making a full blown attempt at growing what he could no longer afford to drive to get…chicken wings.

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A native resident of the small hard-working industrial community of Sherschlacker, Indiana, Leroy D’Jackson is a man with a big appetite for chicken wings but also an unfortunate victim, like so many others, of exponentially rising gas prices.

“ I’d be driving some 20 long miles each way to get me some wings, sometimes 2 or 3 times a day. I eat a lot of chicken wings, but I cant afford no gas to get me my wings. If it aint barbeque then its got to be buffalo sauce and if it aint buffalo sauce then its got to be barbeque sauce.”

A palate only tolerant of barbeque or buffalo styled wings from a select number of area restaurants presented Mr D’Jackson with a rather confined set of growing criterion to which he claims was a great advantage in the early stages of planning his chicken wing plant.

“Since I know what kind of wings I want my plant to grow, I send my brother Bodeen off to fetch me a few dozen wings of barbeque and buffalo sauce from Fat Chubby’s and I walked around over to Tru-Value and got me some plant seeds. Before I buried the wings I microwaved them to get them real hot and then put some plant seeds into the chicken wing. I buried them real good in my front yard.”

Mr D’Jackson patiently cared for his “seedlings” almost weekly, splitting time between his search for employment. Neighbors in the area added Leroy could often be seen out in the front yard spraying the ground with what appeared to be a homemade formula of barbeque and buffalo sauces from an old windex bottle.

After several weeks Mr D’Jackson still found himself reluctantly making the 20+ mile trek to one of his wing spots as results to his chicken wing plant project started hinting at signs of lackluster production. As a man with a solid grasp on ethics and differentiating business and personal expenses, Mr D’Jackson’s trips to “get me some more wings” steadily began to replace the drives to “get me some more wings for my chicken wing plant”. It seemed Leroy D’Jackson was prepared to say goodbye to his chicken wing plant ranch.

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On a return trip out to the home this past weekend I had a chance to catch up with the one-time culinary horticulturist.

Perhaps the abnormally dry spring weather was to blame for the 0% yield success rate?

“ Go fuck yo’self.”

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For Baby Dropped on Head, it Luckily has “Happened Before”

[ 1 Comment ] Posted by Terry Klytar on 06.09.08 under Pizza, Terry's Posts

 

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As I watched the hoards of Town and Country mini-vans, Cadillacs and other old-balls cars carry several local groups of consistently over-aging seniors into their desired dinning hot spots, it felt like any other Sunday night, at 430pm, in this particular part of the country.

 

Yet, things suddenly seemed to be heading in a different direction at this particular Pizza Hut located in the middle of a collection of off-the-highway fast casual restaurants, typically appealing to the low-budget overweight lower-middle class folk.

Right in the middle of this longstanding chain restaurant’s single dining room was a loud, obnoxious extended family of Mexicans, all casually exercising their own ability to be ass-holishly annoying to any non-related Hut patrons. The mother and father sat quietly as if tending to an explosive litter of Canadian geese that all seemed to grow up rather abruptly and at different intervals, with probably an assumed fatal lose here and there along the way. In a moment of heroics one of the many in a strong outing of high school girl Hut employees carefully wedged the bill for this family’s event of the month between several cups of drained beverages and a concoction of pizza grease, garlic sauce, mound of leftover bread-sticks and pizza remains that 3-4 of the Mexican boys seemed to enjoy putting together.

“Thank God they are leaving, “ I whispered to myself as the bill settled away from the girl Hut employees hand that understood our misery of dinning with an absurdly large and rowdy extended family of Mexicans. But either by force of evil gravity or complete carelessness for the less senior members at the table, I witnessed first by sound then by sight the dropping of an infant to the floor.

At first, the 6 month or so old infant didn’t seem to care or notice the sudden positional change from the parallel positioning atop the chair to the perpendicular angle of the head meeting the floor, sort of like he had been through this before. I was waiting for the delayed tantrum, but it really did end up being nothing more than a sparkler in the daytime. Little did I know experience really was to be credited for such poise and control.

Confusion then broke out as many of the patrons did not seem to understand the poorly worded Spanish phrases the mother was capable of coming up with at short notice after witnessing her baby fall right onto the traditional fast-food 1980’s style multiple brown colored floor tile (traditional of McDonalds bathrooms and the area surrounding former Wendy’s buffets) Her distress screams could be categorized something like shrieking high pitched song lyrics you might hear on a Spanish version of a scary Halloween sounds tape.

“Holy shit!,” the teen manager Tammy mumbled as she cocked her head back towards the scene while dishing out a piece of stuffed crust to my plate.

“What the Fuck” I witnessed a senior citizen sitting in a 10-person booth word to himself.

“Hes ok, hes ok, this has happened before,” the assumed father noted to both his family and all the stranger Hut patrons now completely glued to the cranial region of this little Mexican baby.

Oh.

And like that, there it was…the reassurance that this has all fortunately happened before.

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Daren Hamscotty

[ Post Comment ] Posted by Dicky Relifonic on 06.06.08 under Dicky's Posts

 Daren Hamscotty

I got the following email from Daren Hamscotty the other day.  I thought I would share it with everyone.  He is a friend of Klytar’s.  He is rough around the edges, but once you get to know him he starts to warm up.

Yo Bro,

 

Its Daren Hamscotty, just droppin you a few lines about herbal supplements. Did you know the earth is a magical place of healing? With a little devotion, sacrifice and some general know-how, my top dog Dr. Blu came up with one hell-of-a one a day herbal power pack. He calls it “Tempered Beast” and it comes in packs of 5, 13, 27 and 4,000. Its just one dissolving capsule a day and you’ll feel like you want to fuck anything that walks in front of you and snap the heads off of anything that don’t agree with your desires. I fucked a roaming butterfly yesterday and then rammed a 18inch sub down my girls “whoo hoo” (her names Tisha)because she was playing with her hair all funny- AND I DIDN’T LIKE IT.

Anywho, if you want to feel like a king and have the power to go with it, look me up online at IBLUABEAST.com

 

Gotta Run,

 

D Ham

 

Ps- I lost my right pinkie finger last night when I told my friend to slam his car door on it because I thought it wouldn’t hurt.

 

PSS- IT DIDN’T

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