M.R.I. & Brandi's World Famous Hotdogs

This morning I went for a M.R.I. I’m sure M.R.I stands for something, but it must be on a need-to-know bases, no one thinks I need to know.

My neurologist couldn’t find any thing wrong with my system that would cause my left hand or left foot to jerk and lined me up to have the M.R.I.

I reclined on a cushion thing and a huge machine surrounded me. Before l reclined the technician, with little Santa Clauses all over her medical uniform, put little ear plugs in each ear. I could still hear, but maybe it would have been much worse without the ear plugs. The procedure took about an hour, in 3 to 6 minutes segments. It reminded me much of “Close Encounters Of A Third Kind”… with maybe a knocking sound or a wooden shoe clogging sound would be 4 or 5 sounds…. Then a different sound much stranger would repeat the same number of bursts of sound… then the other original clicking or knocking would make itself slightly different, but again with the 4 or 5 sounds and then stranger thing would repeat the rhythm but in blasts of a freight train, or a wind tunnel. The technician also put a cloth over my eyes so I could “relax”. Relax or prevent me from seeing the little long neck creatures with the almond shape eyes communicating with an earthman man doctor who is using musical chop sticks, one red and one blue?

It took about an hour… oh yeah, I almost forgot, she also shot a fluid into my arm to see the contrast in my jaw she said…. Okay, just so it is not embalming fluid.

After it was over with, just around the corner and up the street a couple of blocks is Brandi’s World Famous Hotdogs, formerly known as Betty’s World Famous Hotdogs.

I paid Brandi a visit and got a chili dog and onion rings to go. Brandi is back at work from having her baby daughter. A picture of the little baby girl on the cash register has been replaced by Brandi and her baby in a sepia tone. On the other hand, other than the picture Brandi looked sloppy. Up until now she has looked perky, witty, and on top of everything. And her little sister, who is taller, looked like the discontent employee. Now, Brandi seems to just walk around and complain to the people she knows… telling them she is depressed for whatever reason I couldn’t overhear and the sister, who never smiled is now always smiling and eagerly taking orders…. Another thing, Brandi always wore a low-cut of some kind to accentuate her boobs. Today she has a old jersey on and her sister had on the low-cut with, I bet, a Victoria’s Secret Bra on.

They take care of their regular customers. While I was waiting, an old black man walked in. He had on working clothes. He sat down beside me and the sister handed him an order of fries and Brandi handed him a chili-dog fresh from the hotdog cooker. The old man didn’t have to say a word, they knew exactly what he wanted… and I bet he is a good tipper.