The case of the missing bacon

Couponman, armed with a half-off discount, and I drove the two older grandkids to Denny’s for a night out on the town. 

Couponman leaned over the five-year-old Worm and whispered in her ear.  “Yeah, bacon, bacon,” she hollered excitedly and flung her head back.  Whack went the back of her head against the wooden railing on the booth.  Her eyes welled with tears, but she never cried.  People who eat bacon are tough.  Remember Curly, the old leathery cowboy, from City Slickers?  He ate bacon with every meal. 

The Worm’s dinner was delivered with one strip of bacon on the side.

“Where’s my bacon,” she said at the end of the meal. 

“You ate it,” I replied.

“No, I didn’t,” she said emphatically.  “I only had one bite.  Someone stole my bacon.”

I heard of a man who called the police over a missing five pound slab of bacon, only to find his wife ate it in one middle-of-the-night sitting, but was too embarrassed to tell him.  What kind of woman does that?  I guess if she could eat five pounds of bacon for a midnight snack, she could hide just about anything under that nightgown.

Oh, no my blog is turning into the Jerry Seinfeld Show, a blog about nothing.  Don’t tell the Worm I said that.  She’s thinks bacon is hitting the super lotto.

Incidentally, no one owned up to eating the bacon.  The Worm even checked to make sure it wasn’t stuck to Grandpa’s rear end.  In all honesty, I think she was just trying to trick us into ordering another side.

Related posts:

1. Play it again, grandma
2. Weekend at grandma’s
3. I am woman, hear me roar
4. Five going on twenty
5. Little bite of Denmark