Had an opportunity to do some casting and reeling while at the lake, so I trekked the few blocks to the local convenience store/bait shop to pick up a state mandated $20 piece of paper granting me the right to put a lure in the lake.
I was greeted by a portly clerk, sporting blue blocker sunglasses, a teeshirt advertising a local cruise/poker run, and a visor covered in what appeared to be pins from some Olympic event of the past century.
The clerk only took a few minutes of scrutinizing my new Oklahoma driver's license before asking me which name was my first name."The American sounding name at the end, there," I told her.
Hey, turns out by maddening coincidence I share my first name with one of her favorite nephews that caught a 3 lb. sand bass a few weeks back. Swell.
Several humorous anecdotes later, I had my license to kill -- fish. I was off.
Or so I thought.
The clerk continued to talk as I made my way for the heavy glass paned door..."You may want to swing by here tomorrow afternoon. We're bringing up the smoker and will be cookin' up some meat in the parking lot here."
Meat? Smoking meat in the bait store parking lot? The heavenly odor of animal carcasses being slow cooked combined with the smell of the bait tanks wafting over."Yep, we got some ribs, and some hot links...a ton of chicken."
I smiled and nodded, anticipating my exit, stupidly not expecting what was coming next..."...and also something you'll probably want to get in on...we got some teriyaki chicken and steaks we'll be cooking up special."
Nothing more I can add to my entry other than my favorite movie reference to the "Japanese Marinade of the gods" in the Woody Allen film, What's Up, Tiger Lily?"My name is Teri Yaki...and this is my sister, Suki Yaki."
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