Chet The Dog

Posts Tagged ‘ribs’

Sweet And Sour

“Here’s some news from Shanghai,” Bernie says.

I perk up right away. Shanghai Gardens is one of my favorite restaurants, a tiny place in a strip mall beside Cash Your Check, which was running a scam I never really understood, and our client wasn’t really that happy in the end, although her shooting spree thing was uncalled for, Bernie said, but forget all that, the point being that that was how we got to meet Dominic Wu, chef at Shanghai Gardens. We drive up out back and he comes out with a bag of Sweet and Sour Ribs, every time! So: are we on our way?

“Seems they’re restricting dog ownership to one per family,” Bernie says.

Huh? Is this about Dominic? There are no members at all of the nation within at Shanghai Gardens.

“Zero tolerance,” Bernie says. “There are now twenty million people in Shanghai and eight hundred thousand dogs.” He looks up at me. “What if there’s something in humans that induces us to continually create problems we can’t solve?”

Meaning we’re not going to Shanghai Gardens? I go to the corner and lie down. Sigh.

Take Out

Cleon came running after us, a take-out carton in his hand. Love take-out cartons. I pretty much always know what’s in them from the smell. Sometimes Bernie grabs an old take-out carton from back in the fridge and says, “Wonder what’s in here?” I finally came to believe he means it.

“Hey,” Cleon said, “where are you going?”

“Work came up, kind of sudden,” Bernie said.

“And those other guys – they forgot their take-out order.”

Bernie held out his hand. “I think I know who it’s for, Cleon. We’ll see that it gets there.”

“Yeah?” said Cleon, handing over the carton. Ribs in the special sauce, of course. “Thanks.”

We hopped in the Porsche.  

Spencer Quinn today at 2, Borders, Independence Mall, Kingston MA.

Fight Smells

“Twenty questions?” said Bernie. “Sounds like fun. And after that there’s always Scrabble.” I know Scrabble. All those little pieces: you’ve got to be careful with your tail when they’re out on the coffee table. I learned that too late one time. And then I learned it too late again another time. But forget about that. Did Bernie really want to play Scrabble with these tough dudes? He sure didn’t smell like he did – he smelled like he was getting ready to fight them. 

“You trying to be funny?” said the one with the neck tattoo, strands of barbed wire. His hand went to his pocket. I got up from under the table. 

The other dude put his hand on the guy’s arm. “We’re out of here, Lonnie.”

Lonnie nodded. “Something about this place sucks.” He tossed some money on the table. They got up and left.

As soon as they were out of the door, Bernie said, “Let’s go, boy.”

We went. I  noticed I still happened to have a rib bone in my mouth. I took it along, just in case.

Spencer Quinn will be at Borders, Independence Mall, Kingston MA, tomorrow at 2PM.

Tough Dudes

“Hey,” said one of the two big bald guys on the patio at Max’s Memphis Ribs. “More beer.” Cleon’s eyelids closed a little bit – an interesting human expression. He turned to them. “Coming right up.” He went through the back door and into the restaurant. Then: surprise. Bernie smiled at the bald guys – rough-looking dudes, I know saw: one had a neck tattoo curling up from under his collar. “Ever tasted better ribs than these?” he said, all friendly like.

The one with the tattoo didn’t even look up. The other one, the one who’d ordered the beer, shrugged and said, “Maybe.”

“Yeah?” said Bernie. “Where?”

Why was Bernie talking to these guys? Not like him at all. I stopped chewing on the bone, panted a bit.

“L.A.,” said the guy.

“You guys from there?” said Bernie.

“What is this?” said the guy. “Twenty questions?” Now the tattooed one was looking over at us, too.