"Well, the beans were good and the Wonder Bread was white," I said. "Sauce not great, but the ribs —”
"You know what I mean," she said.
I did. I didn't say it like this, but I loved Crawdad's new squeeze for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was that I love everyone. I mean, we're all in this together, you know what I mean? And I loved the guy's favorite barbecue, and I loved his laugh, and you know his heart's in the right place, or else he wouldn't be crawdoodlin' the great Crawdad de la Cooter. Best of all, though: He ain't like me. If she'd of gone and buddied up with some other bowlegged starving artistical pirate-headed Ping-Pong-playing backyard philosophizing tranny-ass barbecued chicken farmer with a Chevy Sprint pickup truck, that might of maybe been tough. SFBG
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2613 San Pablo, Berk.
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