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.