Mack Hall, HSG
The Ninja Jade Helm Dinner Roll of Flying Death
South of Springfield, Missouri, in the little town of Ozark, the hungry traveler will find Lambert’s Café, where the staff throw dinner rolls. There are two other Lambert’s Cafes, one in Sikeston, Missouri and another in Foley, Alabama, where more rolls are thrown.
And why do the waiters and waitresses at Lambert’s throw dinner rolls?
Because throwing green peas just won’t work.
Except for one-year-olds. A one-year-old can fling a mean cloud of peas.
Lambert’s is a highway-side establishment cluttered with the usual garage-sale debris tacked to the walls and which serves good, honest, industrial-strength-cholesterol road food. Lots of cafes do just that, so to stand out Lambert’s bills itself as The Home of the Throwed Roll. The diner who wishes another dinner roll catches the waiter’s eye and holds up a hand. The waiter then skillfully tosses a roll for the patron to catch. Your ‘umble scrivener has dined at Lambert’s. He caught his second dinner roll (hey, the first one was a bad pitch, okay?) without bodily harm, and can testify that it’s all good, low-prole merriment.
Naturally, Lambert’s is being sued by a customer who was brutally mauled by a ninja jade helm dinner roll of flying death.
The complainant alleges a catalogue of head injuries just short of decapitation. Apparently Lambert’s light, fluffy dinner rolls are really stealth gluten toxic death bombs.
Grievously wounded by a poof of flour and air, the diner went all Donald Trumpy hissy-fitty and demanded the cost of a new car instead of dessert. After all, she could not possibly have read the signs about the “throwed” rolls or have seen the aerial celebrations of the in-house baker’s art flying as gracefully through the air as spring butterflies.
One is reminded of the story, some years ago, of the high school girl who sued for a spot on the football team and then sued again because a blocker on the opposing team knocked her down during a game. Her grounds for the second lawsuit were that no one had told her she could get hurt playing football.
But to be taken down by a dinner roll - oh, the humanity.
Thank goodness the weapon wasn’t something heavier and sharper, such as a marshmallow.
Lambert’s might need to place warnings on its dinner rolls: “The Surgeon General of the State of Missouri has determined that food is dangerous to your health.”
Think of a carbohydrate movie treatment: Sergeant Preston and his husky King keep Canada safe for the Empire with just a dog sled and a buttered croissant.
Or Casablanca: “Get away from that ‘phone! I was willing to fling an English muffin at Captain Reynaud and I’m willing to fling an English muffin at you!”
Hunters will have to pass day-long bread safety courses before they can legally take to the woods with a biscuit.
The United States Senate, aka The Marx Brothers and Sisters, will hold hearings on the racism of flinging dinner rolls made of white flour.
Many businesses do not lend themselves to the concept of flinging. Auto parts come to mind: “Hey, Joe, here’s your new exhaust manifold…catch!”
Or children’s health clinics: “Okay, kids, who wants to play dodge-the-flu-shots?”
Many people take up hobbies that feature some element of danger: skydiving, mountain climbing, skiing, motorcycling, and beating Vladimir Putin at chess come to mind. But no one would have thought of the lurking menace (cue the Jaws shark music), the raw, savage, blood-crazed, edge-of-your-seat terror in asking the waitress for another dinner roll.