Monday, October 24, 2016

Corndogs

  The van needed some good loving. A leaky radiator and failing power steering plagued the fine automobile. Of course, The Van Man was there for his Pavement Pegasus. With greasy fingers and a smudged smile, Van Man worked underneath the van. Wrenches clanged and bolts loosened. Fluid dripped and he just wiped away the mess on his jeans. And then his phone rang.
"Hey", answered Van Man.
"Hey, what are you doin', sleepin'?", asked his Father.
"Sleeping? It's two o'clock..."
"Oh. You watch that game?"
"Yeah."
"They looked good, didn't they?", boasted The Father, as though he had something to do with the football team's victory. There was a pride in The Old Man's voice that only came out in the Fall. A pride that Van Man had never been bestowed.
"Yeah, they did", he replied.
"Hold on, lemme see these fifty-cent corndogs..."
Van Man waited.
"Wait a minute...alright, fifty-cent corndogs, Fridays and Sundays, Sonic", finished The Old Man, happily.
"Cool", said Van Man.
"Well, lemme go, I gotta use the bathroom", barked his Father as he hung up.
  Van Man continued his tender loving care of the van. He took pride in his Boulevard Beast, it had always been there for him. And pride was something The Van Man was more than happy to give.

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