Putting Paid To BBQ Fires
“Come, I want to show you something,” said the salesman as he parked the one-tonne demo model pick-up truck in the parking lot of a busy shopping center. He left the engine running. He led me to the back of the pick-up truck, took a coin out his pocket, inserted it in a slot on the freight deck, gave it a half-turn and lifted a panel to reveal a BBQ grid.
“See,” he continued while he produced a parcel with four mutton chops and a few pieces of sausage which he laid out on the grill, “you only need to flip this lever here to divert the exhaust gas through the heat exchanger below and you have enough heat to BBQ your meat.”
He fetched two ice-cold beers from a cooler box and we stood there sipping beers while the meat sizzled on the artificial fire and the shoppers looked at us curiously. Then the police arrived and a sergeant informed us that we may not make fires in the parking lot. The salesman proudly explained the cooking process to the bamboozled servant of the law.
“So what do you think?” the salesman asked me after the law had left. “I don’t know, “I said reluctantly, “I don’t need a pick-up truck with a built-in BBQ. I already have a truck.”
“But it is not a truck with a BBQ,” he retorted, “It is a mobile BBQ capable of transporting goods.”
“That’s brilliant! I never thought of it in that way,” I said as I reached for the pen and the sales contract, seeing the new laptop I plan to buy flying out the window.
Then I hear the piercing noise coming from somewhere and as I reach out to silence it, I wake up and realize that I’m only dreaming. And I sat there rubbing my eyes while the insanity of sleeping ebbs out my numbed brain.
Eish! The shit I can dream. And we never got around to eating that meat!
Have a great day!