Ohhhhhhhh I just have to tell you, my girlfriend Marge called and invited Wayne and me to go to the Monson Chapel on Lower Huntington Road for breakfast one Saturday a little while back. It seems that on the first Saturday of every month the church puts on an All-You-Can Eat Breakfast or an ‘AYCE’ in case you ever pass a church that says that on their bulletin board/sign out front. It’s open from early (7:00AM I think) until around 11:00 AM (I think). Heaven you’d think I’d pay more attention to something like that, the time I mean, but all I do is put up with old Mr. Wayne Hungry Pants and “. . . to heck with the time,” he said. He has the alarm set for the first Saturday of every month at what he says is “O’Dark Thirty, an old Navy term he said. All I know is that I barely had time to get my panty hose on straight; the last time I got them on backwards and as all you ladies know, they are uncomfortable, at least the ones I wear are. You can’t walk right with the heels of the footy part on top of your feet. They wear blisters.
Anyway, I barely got my hat on when he started blowing the horn and racing his engine and I don’t mean the one in the car, the hungry loveable little jerk. I did put on my old Playtex girdle and I’ll tell you this here and now that I’m never going to one of those breakfasts again wearing one; it’s almost suicide. It’s like Arnold Swashbuckler or whatever his name is, putting his big sinewy sweaty bulging arm biceps around me and squeezing me real hard. Lands, I’ll have to stop a minute and cool off, hot flashes you know. Whew!!!! Anyway you get the idea.
The church side door opened early and people were already standing in line waiting to get in. I think they charged us $6 each and we could have all the food we wanted and stay as long as they were serving breakfast. The menu read: Eggs (anyway you want them – omelets included), bacon, ham, sausage, French toast, biscuits, toast, gravy, cold cereal, milk, juice, coffee, and pancakes. Wayne, the little oinker, ordered one of everything and then had the audacity to go back for seconds…and thirds, and then he got up the nerve to ask for a go-box or doggie bag, or hog trough as he calls them sometimes. I thought the gentleman that was clearing off tables was going to deck him one but then it was a church you know so the man just ignored him. Thank you sweet man; I know you were irked but not like I was. He embarrassed me, the little twirp. I showed him; I said no – – – – – – – for a whole week. Well I’ll admit I personally didn’t last the whole week but maybe I did get my point over enough to let him know I disapproved of his behavior.
I know you all have missed the March 6th feed but do try to make it out to the Monson Chapel on April 3rd; I promise you won’t be disappointed and you won’t go away hungry but get there before Wayne or they may run out of food. Oh, and they sometimes have a rummage sale/garage sale going on about the same time. I found the loveliest purse there and they had some used Dockers that just fit Wayne. I didn’t know there was another person in all Allen County that was the same shape as Wayne, the tubby little darlin’. Thank you, whoever you are that donated them to the cause; I didn’t even have to shorten the legs like I do almost all of his pants. We found some other stuff that we couldn’t do without including some puzzles and toys for the grandkids.
For our wedding anniversary this coming summer we’re going to try to get all the kids and grandkids together and celebrate it at the Monson Chapel. I think it’s better than going downtown and spreading money around when it can go to help the church pay for their new building. I like it so much better than where they were before. They have so much more room; at the old place they had to hold their rummage sale outside in the weather, now I can stay inside and shop where it’s warm.
Till next time,
“Now Wayne, quit that! HEE HEE.”