WINGS

As I was driving home today I passed a Zaxby’s restaurant just a few miles from Chez Elisson.

Whether it is a sign of advancing age-related mental deterioration, my increasingly bad eyesight, or the fierce attention I pay to watching the road when I drive, I do not know - but when I glanced at the sign in the restaurant’s parking lot, I could have sworn it said “Homeless Wings Meal” - enough to make me do a double-take.

Of course it was my imagination at work.  The sign really said “Boneless Wings Meal.”

Still, the idea intrigued me.  What sort of flavors would Homeless Wings come in?  Pee-soaked trousers?  Unwashed Bum?  Week-old Vomit Stain?  And would they come with celery sticks?

[Am I ashamed to have written this post?  You bet I am.  The homeless, after all, are not appropriate targets of snotty, derisive humor.  And yet... Homeless Wings!]