Fried Chicken and Dr. Tongue

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From the journal of Carter Hamorton…

10/27/84

Curfew came too quickly in high school. The rule is that wherever we are staying, we have to be there by midnight. Last night, we were hustling home after hanging out on the Parkway and having a little to much of the brewery’s finest. We were late and walked into Red’s trailer as Second City TV was about to start. Red’s parents were asleep, but being the cool peeps that they are, they left fried chicken on the kitchen counter. Since we didn’t have time to hit a “sleven” on the way home, the chicken became the focus of our survival instincts. We tore into that fried bird like it was out first meal in hours. It was.

With full stomachs, we each took a couch and started watching SCTV. I couldn’t get comfortable and kept switching my legs.

“What’s going on, Carter?” Red asked.

“My right leg won’t let my left leg be on top,” I answered.

The conversation ended there. Both of us were okay with the reason for my fidgeting and a skit with Count Floyd was coming on. Trying to explain the Count in this journal is hard, but he was one of those “creature feature” characters and given my legs’ indecision, the warmth of the cold chicken, the infused confusion of the local product, and the early lateness of the hour, I thought Count Floyd hyping Dr. Tongue’s Evil House of Pancakes was the greatest thing ever. I nearly broke a rib trying not wake anyone up with my laughing. “Ooo, kids, that was scary….”

I wonder if we’ll be laughing at this when we are 50? Will my kids pull the same stunts? What would they say if they read this? I’m pretty sure I’ll still be laughing about this years from now and I know my kids will do their share of stupid stuff. I’m not sure how I’ll answer them if they ask about my shenanigans, but honestly is probably best.

Photo Credit: Google Images

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