We had dinner out last night, for a change, with Mr. Fixit at a local Mexican restaurant. Don ordered a carne taco salad. No, no, no, taco salad was not good enough. It had to be steak. When it arrived, Don was immediately disappointed with the amount of guacamole. He requested a side order of that turned out to be rather large. It was probably meant to be enough for the whole table, but Don piled it all on top of his salad. He finished his meal when he had eaten all the guacamole. Steak pieces were left behind.
The next morning, Gigi arrives. A rather large breakfast is prepared for Don. Breakfast is, after all, his favorite. Thereafter, Don quickly felt the need to bundle up and jump in bed for a nap. His room was overly warm, just the way he likes it.
Mid-afternoon Don wakes as the rest of us are preparing to consume Gigi’s famous burgers. Don stirs and I help him get out of bed. He broke into a full sweat and his skin is hot to the touch. I open a few windows. Even my glasses started steaming up. Don then appears in the kitchen where he asks Gigi and Mr. Fixit, “what stinks”? They reply in unison that it’s him. He asks where is the bathroom?
I come upstairs from the laundry room just in time to sense I’m needed in Don’s bathroom. A much more foul odor in the bathroom overpowered the aromatic smell of tasty burgers. I can tell Don will need a shower after the cleanup. I remove some of his clothing while he’s sitting on the toilet. When I get to his pants and underwear resting on the floor, I find what looks like a steamy guacamole hot pocket nestled in a pair of disposable underwear. The underwear looked eerily like a white fluted-shaped shell for a taco salad. My glasses were not the only thing steaming up. I remove the green toxic hot pocket and report to those in the kitchen that Don will be a few more minutes before arriving at the table for lunch. Howling laughter ensues. Yeah, OK, yuck it up, guys.
Note to Self: Holy Guacamole! I’ve lost my appetite.