Slammed

"Which one of you assholes ordered the free Grand Slam? Oh, that's right. All of you did."

Since I don't get high any more, I don't have any reason to eat at Denny's. But today they were giving away free Grand Slam breakfasts (two pancakes, two eggs, two sausage links, two strips of bacon) between the hours of 6 AM and 2 PM, so I thought what the hell, I'm always up for some free cholesterol early in the morning.

This morning I got up early and swung by the home of my colleague Randal Graves, who is also a mooch of some reknown, and we drove to the nearest Denny's, the one mentioned in this story. We got there at 6:15 AM. I figured that there would be no line at that unholy hour.

I figured wrong. As we pulled into the parking lot we could tell that the place was hopping. When we drove alongside the place, we could see that all the tables and booths were filled, and a line had formed. There was no way we were going to get served and still make it to work on time.

"Fuck this," one of us said. Okay, it was me. I said it. We decided to abandon our free Grand Slam dream and went to eat breakfast at a local diner instead. It was good, but it wasn't free. It wasn't even cheap, for that matter. We made it to work on time, though.

Randal and I tried and we failed, and as Homer Simpson taught us long ago, the lesson is: never try. I can't speak for Randal, but from now on I'm sticking with my usual breakfast: a cup of coffee and a piece of beef jerky. Believe me, there's no better way to start the day.