There he sat in appalled surrender as every sort of fried everything was paraded before him on plastic trays.  Why he had allowed his semi-bovine friend (who wanted to be a semi-bovine more than friend) to drag him to this reptile house, he would question until the day he died. 

They passed before his horrified eyes fried Yams, fried Pickles, fried Eggs (not normal fried eggs, like at breakfast, actual hard boiled eggs battered and deep fried to a leathery crisp), fried cabbage leaves, Fried Liver (the whole Liver), Fried bologna sandwiches (again, not just the bologna was fried, this was a fully prepared sandwich, battered and fried like those deceptively named fried eggs), fried Peanuts for Pete’s sake, and something that he could only identify as a battered and deep fried Cheese-Doodle.

Politeness (and not a little hunger) persuaded him to sample a ware or two from this tray of arterial gridlock. 

Across the table were Semi-Bovine Andrea’s totally bovine aunt and uncle (related only by marriage, which explained his constant staring at Andrea’s Semi-Udders), treating their plates like troughs and leading the march of the breading straight to their thighs! 

Much more slowly, Krow brought one of the Tempura rejects (what it was beneath the shell, he wouldn’t know) to his lips for a sample.  Like the juice of an over-juicy tangerine bitten into by an eager child, orange liquid spilled forth and stained his three stooges tie.  He grimaced, more at the near-lethal salt content than the scalding grease-juice, and realized with increasing terror that this was starting to make sense!  Cows need salt-licks to survive!  These people ate this rat ka-ka for their own health!  If it doesn’t kill you it… addicts you, maybe.  Krow didn’t know!

Aunt Michelle looked over at him through an incredibly doughy face, and asked “Soooooooooooooooooooooo?”

Krow swallowed hard and forced some semblance of a smile through greased lips.  “Spicy.” he muttered, and a tear escaped his eye.  It really wasn’t all that spicy, just so damned bad, that Krow felt like crying!

“Oh, thank you!”, she said with a jumbo cheek-stretching smile.  “That’s a compliment, because I know you native Americans just LOVE your spicy food.”

“Actually, I’m Irish!”, Krow said after finishing his gallon glass of ice water (which they hadn’t managed to fry).

Krow is an Irish name?”, Uncle Audra asked.

“I was adopted!”, said Krow, and refilled his water glass.  Was there an antidote for salt and canola poisoning?

Krow asked for the bowl of green beans to have some sort of sustenance before they adjourned to the living room for the grilling (frying?).  He dipped the enormous splintery spoon into the Smurf-adorned bowl and served up the content.  He nearly gasped when he saw that each of the green beans was individually breaded and fried.  They looked like boiled caterpillars!  Was there no end to this madness?

“You need some more salt, Trenton?”, the eight-hundred pound poison chef asked holding out a salt shaker toward him like a carrot before a mule.

“No… this is… “, Krow couldn’t say “good” now could he?  “I’m fine.”

Big old Andrea kept alternately trying to put a hand on his thigh, and trying to stuff fried watermelon rinds into her cavern-like mouth.

Between trying to avoid Andrea’s hooves and deciding how much his health should suffer for the sake of politeness Krow was beginning to long for the days he was interred in a Belgian Prison Camp. 

He managed to swallow an item or two (each swallow accompanied by a heart murmur).  He tossed the occasional globber behind his back to the family dog, Jabba amid cries of “Isn’t that Elvis?”, or “Look, olean!”, or “That cloud looks just like a Turkey leg!”

The rest he just left there in that primordial soup that no amino acid could live in without the universe’s tiniest wet-suit.

“Full?”, Uncle Audra asked as he reached a flab enveloped arm toward Trenton Krow’s McDonald’s collector’s plate!

“Uh… Full, yeah!  Very Full!”  Of SOMETHING!, Krow thought!

Uncle Audra actually ate Krow’s leftovers on the way to the grease spattered dishwasher.  “You don’t even have to pre-wash with this baby, Trent!”, Uncle Audra said as he loaded Krow’s plate on top of a heap of overfilled cups, plates, and saucers full of grease. 

Krow was scared!  Real Scared!

In the velvet painting encrusted living room Krow was asked, “So, are you and our Andrea getting serious?”

Krow shook his head in minor confusion.  “About what?”  He pictured getting serious about Paul Stanley’s Solo Tour, or about trying to get Le Weaz out of jail, but not much else.

“About each other, silly!”, giggled Aunt Michelle.  Santa Claus had no bowl of jelly like the shaking belly of Aunt Michelle!

Krow’s eyes widened as he contemplated flight from this strange place. 

“No… we’re… we’re just friends!”  Krow wondered if his and Andrea’s species were even compatible.  Ass! He hoped not!

“Oh, we hear different!”, smiled Aunt Michelle showing the teeth she wore like a Great White!

Krow wanted to run, but his Semi-Bovine friend Andrea had driven, and she had the keys.  Beasts of the size of Audra and Michelle were fast in spite of their deceptive weight!

Uncle Audra had sneaked around to Andrea’s side of the couch and began tickling her on the side… obviously trying to catch a breast feel.

Andrea had told Krow that her uncle by marriage had a little thing for her, but the idea was so incredible, he was inclined to not believe this.

After seeing the shape of Audra’s wife, Michelle, though, Krow figured that maybe he would have a little thing for anybody.  The implications of this realization caused Krow to pray that he wouldn't be tickled next!

“So… What do you do?”, Michelle asked Krow, eyeing him hungrily! This made him wonder if she was going to be tickling him? Was that the way this worked?  Was this some kind of fat people orgy?  Oh, Crap!

“I… I’m a cop.”, said Krow.  This, of course, was true, but he also was hoping that this would scare her somehow and thus spare him.

“Ah… how exciting!”, she said.  Then her eyes widened and she laughed, “An Irish Cop!?”

She laughed an enormity of a laugh which shook the entire house.  Krow grabbed on to the arm rest on the couch and adhered to it for dear life!  He only grabbed that way, however, as Andrea was on his left.

Somewhere across the street a car alarm went off, and not because of a break in!

Audra looked angry.  “That damn car alarm goes off every time our favorite comedy shows come on!  What gives?"

To Michelle Krow said, “Actually I was raised by Sioux Indians, so you wouldn’t find any accent like the traditional-“

“An Irish Cop raised by Sioux Indians?  Oh, ho, ho, ho!”  Michelle laughed harder, and Krow actually felt the foundation crack beneath the couch.  Had he died?  Was this his own personal grease-trap of a hell?

The laughter abated and Krow pulled himself back to his seat, from the floor from where he had fallen against the decibels of Aunt Michelle’s laughter.

Were this Southern California instead of North Louisiana the Richter scale would have been off the charts.  Poor Earth!

Uncle Audra’s eyes brightened as much as two raisins shoved into a glob of dough could brighten, and he said:  “Time for dessert!”

“I sure hope you kept your appetite, Trenton!”, said Aunt Michelle.  “You like Fried Ice Cream?”

Krow leaped to his feet, and grabbed Andrea’s purse for her.

“We can’t stay!”, he nearly shouted.  “I have to… I need to go and… “ he scrambled for a reason to jet, “I have to go get exorcised!”

“Oh, that’s too bad!”, Uncle Audra grunted at Andrea’s milkable breasts.

“Well, you have fun with that exorcism thing!”, Michelle said, trying to get up off the couch.  It was like watching a turtle try to get back on his feet from an inverted position.

Uncle Audra had the nerve to come out of the kitchen with two foil wrapped trays of leftovers.  “Here you two go.  We sure can’t eat it all, so you two enjoy!”

“Are you sure?” asked Krow.  “I mean… I think you could eat it all.”

The tray was thrust into his hand and he took it, rather than staying to argue.  Krow was defeated, defeated by his own personal Grendel of Grease.

As he and his semi-bovine friend Andrea exited the deceptively quaint provincial house Aunt Michelle said, “Remember this!  The first time you come, you’re an honored guest… the second time, you’re family!”  And she smiled that horrid smile!

He ran to the car, removing Andrea’s keys from her purse.  As an afterthought he unlocked the passenger side of her own car for her.

“So, what did you think?”, Andrea asked as they drove at Mach 3 from the worlds scariest salt mine.

He glared at her and hissed through clenched teeth.

“Oh, you’re mad because he was tickling me, aren’t you?  Don’t be jealous!”, she giggled.  In that giggle-jiggle Krow saw Andrea becoming Aunt Michelle in a few short years.  What had he ever done to make her think she could score with the Krowster?  Crap!

As he rounded a corner by a small pond he tossed his leftover fried dung into the water, and sped away.  He was gone before every fish in the pond went belly-up in the pond, poisoned by the “food.”  Which, incidentally, didn’t take long to happen.

First he would drop off Andrea and this car, then he’d get back into his beat-up, red, 1988 Mustang and drive home for a long, long, long shower. 

And then… then he might just need to get that exorcism!  He just might.  That and a stomach pump!

“The first time you come, you’re an honored guest… the second time, you’re family!”, she had said.  Krow shuddered. 

He never went back!  Never, never, never!


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