The tornado warning had been just that, a warning, thanks to a little preventive management by me and Nat. Now we were lined up for some Kansas City barbecue. The KCQ Buffet was an awesome concept, especially for storm riders, but I doubted they would remain in business long since Nat and I were out to destroy their profit margin.
It wasn’t all-you-can-eat, but it generally worked that way for most people. Instead, the restaurant charged by the number of trips through. Nat and I, however, were experts at loading entire mountains of food on our trays, making it look almost like a Jenga stack of meat. We had even figured out how to use other foods, like mashed potatoes, as a kind of mortar to hold things together.
The cashier looked on in horror at the three-foot tall mountains on our trays with multiple dinner plates and surrounding appetizer plates.
“Wait until you see what we can do with your ice cream machine,” Nat taunted the cashier.
“Hot fudge volcano.” I nodded, smiling wickedly.