We went over to the infamous restaurant where Paul Stanley and the TBI arranged to meet the kid who was blackmailing him for dinner. I mean, we went there for dinner. The kid wanted money, not supper.
I was under the impression that it was a hair pricey, but I tell you what, I paid eleven dollars for what I thought was going to be some rice, beans, a tamale, and a couple of things I didn’t know what they were, but ended up being tasty, crunchy chicken things.
And after I ate as much as I could eat without dying…
Folks, I am not even kidding you with what I am about to tell you.
I FOUND A STEAK ON MY PLATE!!!!!
A whole motherfucking steak.
And it came with some flour tortillas, too.
And I’m still not sure what the tortillas were for.
But a steak! And I don’t think it was an accident. I believe the people who run this place put a steak on my plate under what can only be described as a shit-ton of food on purpose.
Well, needless to say, I am happy and the dog is very happy.