Only at Men’s Whataburger

So I’m sitting here enjoying (?) some 84 degree weather in Huntington Beach, waiting to make the three-hour drive up to the camp…through Southern California Friday work traffic. Mmmm… Sounds like fun.

Still looking forward to cool mountain temps. I will not be a particularly happy camper if…

Anyway, I thought I would weigh in on the North Point Raccoonapalooza (for all my friends who reside outside the epicenter of my world, we found out we have a whole tribe of raccoons that have set up shop in the drop ceiling of the NP Grand Ballroom and Events Center).

These gnarly little rodent-bear hybrids are going to end up costing NP a “raccoon-load” of cash, when all I said and done with the catching, relocation, clean-up, restoration, and replacement plan. Kingdom stewardship never smelled so gamey.

Back to the Whataburger connection…

Every week, at our Thursday World Problem-solving Caucus, we are joined by Mr. Luster. He’s not really part of our group, but since we think he’s related to Marshall…and they’re both die-hard Razorback fans from Arkansas…we always let him come over and give us our weekly dose of Southern wit and wisdom.

…and hope we learn some more about Marshall’s hidden lineage.

Here was this week’s serving:

(Mr. Luster) Well, good mornin’ Reverand. Where’s old’ Ellis today?

(me) We’re not sure. We think he’s in Mexico. But that’s not important. We’ve got a couple of questions for you. Do you have raccoons in Arkansas?

(Mr. Luster) Yes, sir.

(me) So what do you do with them? Do you trap them and relocate them like we do in Lewisville?

(Mr. Luster) *look of bewilderment*

(Mr. Luster) No. We kill them and eat them. They taste just like squirrel.

(me) oh.

I love Texas…reason #78:

I get to have friends from Arkansas.


One thought on “Only at Men’s Whataburger

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