Unbagging the Cats 1

Unbagging the Cats 1

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Don't Bite Into Leann Rimes

Hick is spending the weekend as head BBQer at an ongoing fundraiser for Genius's Project Graduation. Don't gasp. He's not BBQing heads. He's in charge. But to hear him tell it, BBQed heads would sell better than the BBQed hot dogs.

I know why. Hick brought home a few leftovers last night. Have I mentioned what a good BBQer he is? That's his best quality, I think. His claim to fame. The reason we starry-eyed kids have maintained our union for so long. That, and his talent for cleaning up vomit and killing bugs. That seems somehow wrong. Talking about vomit and bugs in the same paragraph as Hick's BBQ. I have a penchant for digression.

Let's try that again. I know why the hot dogs were not selling. I saw them. They were smaller than Slim Jims. I don't know where one could find hot dogs so small. Not Vienna Sausages small. Vienna Sausages have way more girth than Hick's hot dogs. They're like those pitiful sheep that Rene Zellwegger as Ruby Thewes in Cold Mountain traded Nicole Kidman's piano for. She got ten sheep, because put together, they weren't no bigger than six proper sheep.

Well, if you were to lay down your hard-earned cash on the barrelhead for one of these BBQed hot dogs, you would return after eating it to initiate the great Hot Dog Eaters vs Hicks feud. Because it would take three of Hick's hot dogs to make one proper hot dog. If Hick used his mad BBQ skillz as a platform to run for political office, his opponent would call him all bun and no hot dog. Clara Peller herself would call from beyond the grave to ask, "Where's the DOG?"

That's how small Hick's BBQed hot dogs were. I don't know who was in charge of procuring the wieners, but they are of a different ilk than our family. We BBQ big honkin' hot dogs here at our house. Fat hot dogs. They need that no-nonsense Jillian Michaels as their personal trainer, to put them through a rigorous workout.

But the hot dogs that Hick BBQed looked like they were all worked out. Kind of like Leann Rimes. Nobody wants to bite into a BBQed hot dog and find Leann Rimes. You could cut your lip on her hip bones.

Don't bite into Leann Rimes. Avoid Hick's BBQed hot dogs like a customer who subscribes to Direct TV because he doesn't want to end up in a roadside ditch. Or attend his own funeral as a guy named Phil Shifley.

I don't subscribe to Direct TV. But I could write a commercial for them.

When your cable goes out, you get bored.
When you get bored, you look for something to do.
When you look for something to do, you find a rock swap where Hick is BBQing.
When you find a rock swap where Hick is BBQing, you eat a hot dog.
When you eat a hot dog, you cut your lip.
And when you cut your lip, you see that it was caused by a bite into Leann Rimes.
Don't bite into Leann Rimes.
Get rid of cable, and upgrade to Direct TV

See how simple that was? And to think, I'm giving it away for free.


Stephen Hayes said...

Maybe those weren't hot dogs after all. Maybe they were jerky.

Sioux said...


First of all, how cruel of Stephen to cast doubts on the dogs' intelligence/common sense. Why did he say that?

Secondly, if you load up the dogs with relish or chili or pickles, perhaps the lack of the dogs' girth will not be noticed?

Linda O'Connell said...

My coworker and her husband were at that rock swap. And speaking of ... one of my students drew himself without feet and hands. I said, "Look and see what you forgot."
Nonchalanly, he responded, "Oh yeah, my wiener." He was a braggart, too.

knancy said...

Perhaps it is a battle against obesity. You know, a national challenge like terrorism. No one is allowed large soft drinks, too many french fries, and now, overly fat hot dogs. Next year you may be grilling only fruits and veggies. Better keep breeding those goats and chickens!

Val said...

Sioux Litella thinks you were unduly critical of the hot dogs. But being from the country, where jerky is an essential food group, I think I grasp your true meaning.

Okay, you're missing the whole FUNDRAISER concept here, madam. We are not in the business of furnishing condiments. Next thing you know, folks will be asking for a cup of water, returning the hot dog they ordered, and voila! BBQ sauce soup.

I certainly hope neither one of them bit into Leann Rimes!

It's probably the last time in his life that the little fella will forget his wiener.

We are not lacking for protein here in Backroads. If only Hick had persuaded me let him butcher those two pot-bellied pigs he found, the land would be flowing with bacon and sausage.