Western Sizzlin' makes Hell look good.

After I die if I'm given a choice of spending an eternity in Hell or Western Sizzlin' I would choose Hell. Of course it would probably be a trick and I would wind up in the Hell branch of the Sizz'. And God would be laughing at my anguished Vaderesque cry of, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" and then Rod Serling would have something pithy to say. Just my luck.

I don't know how many of you have ever been to a Western Sizzlin'. I'm sure both Derek and Heather have though. It's a buffet place. I can't really recall what makes it so damned "Western" other than being located in Colorado. I haven't been to one in at least seven years.

The last time I was with my now ex and our son. As I recall the wait staff were exceptionally lazy that day. We were seated less than two tables from their holding pen where three of them were standing around talking about some inane teenage crap. One of them was being explosively angsty to the other two about how the bus boy had been totally ignoring her in despite her thrusting her heaving, glistening bosoms in his face or some such. Which, now that I think about it, is mighty funny because one of our former coworkers used to be a waitress at Western Sizzlin' quite awhile back and she married one of the bus boys. Huh. Must be something in the air there.

Anyway, I had luckily noticed that there was a massive gravy thumbprint on the inside of my glass before I started to drink from it so I attempted to signal the teen trio of disinterested youth. I tried to get their attention by looking directly at them, but they responded by looking at me, sneering and then resuming their whine fest. I then tried holding the glass above my head, waving it back and forth like I was at a concert and whistling. They somehow ignored that too. I finally went over to them – yes, I know it wasn't that far but it also shouldn't have been necessary – held the glass up between them and said, "It's dirty. I need another one," whereupon queen angst acted like they hadn't been totally ignoring me for the past five minutes.

"Oh certainly sir! I'll get you a new one immediately!" but there was a glint of evil in her eyes that made me very reluctant to drink what she brought. After eating some of the food however I would have gladly drunk poison if it would purge the taste from my mouth. The whole time we were eating I was thinking to myself, "I can't believe we are eating this. Why don't we leave? It's not worth it. Leave!" but we didn't leave. We stayed and we ate. It was a meal that we paid for twice but only once with cash.

Afterward we had barely made it outside before Justin started vomiting on some bushes against the side of the building. I wasn't feeling all that good myself and watching the wee boy spew wasn't helping. When he was done rather than tell any of the employees we decided to leave it there as a warning to others. I vowed that day to never again eat at a Western Sizzlin' and I have managed to keep that vow. As nasty as that was then it surprises me that they are still in business today. I know they are still in business because I work up the hill from that same Western Sizzlin' that my son decorated with bile. The reason I'm mentioning them is because they have a marquee that almost always has something ignorant to say and today's stood out to me while I was waiting for the light to change.

It read:

JUST 199

I was wondering, "Huh? New kids? New Kids on the Block? Wha...? Are they having a concert there? Or is it a special for brand new kids that have actually been birthed in the buffet line?" and that led to a jingle in my noggin that I wanted to share with you because that's the only way to GET IT OUT! MUST... FREE... HEAD... OF EVIL... NOISES!

"If your new kid was born in line, he eats tonight for a dollar ninety-nine!"

Thank you. Thank you. I'll be here all night.


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