Merry Christmas you fat tubs o’ lard

Another fixture in our Cannon Beach vacation is the Pig ‘N Pancake. It’s one of those family-owned, decent food, decent prices, excellent service, and bafflingly-renowned-because-it’s -pretty-shitty coffee kind of places. The restaurant is literally a stone’s throw from our driveway.

Today was my second P ‘N P breakfast since we’ve been here, and included all nine of us. As we mounted the steps to the front door, this fat couple hustled in, practically vaulting over car hoods – clearly wanting to beat us in the door. They had absolute tension on their faces that they might have to wait any longer than was their God Given Right to wait for “covered ‘n’ smothered” hashbrowns. I was completely irritated as I always am at people who try to cut you off without making eye contact, especially when the time savings involved are almost nil (waitresses at the P ‘N P will be throwing your food down in front of you almost before you’ve unfolded your napkin). Later, after we’d placed the order and were entertaining the kids at the table with crayons and Grandpa’s tickling, I headed to the restroom and saw this couple already had their breakfasts in front of them. Everything, and I mean everything on their plates was covered in a quarter-inch of butter with inches of syrup delta to boot. My stomach clenched in agony just looking. When I walked back by a mere five minutes after peeing and washing my hands I see the female of the duo is leaning back, wiping her face, and her plates are clean. She looks like someone famished, satisfying a thirst, spent. I feel slightly ill, depressed, cranky. I cannot imagine having that kind of appetite. Well, at least not for breakfast food at the Pig ‘N’ Pancake anyway.

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