| When I was younger, probably about
fifteen years old I was given the heavy responsibility of barbecuing the steaks for
my family who was arriving at 6:00pm from a long drive to visit. At the time I jumped at
every chance I could to show some responsibility. The family arrived at about 5:45pm so
after telling my relatives that I would be the master chef today I began to prepare
the steaks. I seasoned them, and beat them to tenderness with a mallet. At last it
was time to throw them on the bar-be. Four steaks would fit on the grill at a time but not
only did I want to show my steak cooking qualities I wanted also to show my
proficiency. I put one to many steaks on the grill and when it fell to the ground my
little dog Bart ran after it. So I chased Bart I wrestled the raw steak away from
him. I then dipped it into the swimming to rinse off all dirt and dog particles and
threw it back on the bar-be-que. I served that steak to my dear uncle Henry that warm July
night. Every time he commented on how good the steak was I shivered. To this day he
does not know what his steak had been through. And he never will! |
From
The Dog's Mouth To My Uncle's
from:
Terry McGee
 |
