Been a while since I’ve posted. Sorry about that. Life got in the way. Changed the title of the blog, but I’m still ordinary and average.

I got to the counter and Wayne, the guy taking orders, said, “Hey Bro, what’ll it be?”

“I’ll take the chicken special I saw on the sign by the gas pumps.”

Wayne turned and shouted to the kitchen, “Brocephus! I need an eight-piece for my bro here.”

“Coming’ right up, Brofessor.”

When I got home, I opened the clamshell container and found eight Tyson chicken patties and a couple of Kraft singles, still in the wrapper. I dunno. Maybe I’ve watched too much Food Network, but, I had a totally different idea of what broasted chicken meant.