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!]