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<blockquote data-quote="CanadienneBacon" data-source="post: 6679750" data-attributes="member: 11146">Several of you ride with Deena in her sheriff's department panel van, and J.R. and whomever else desires follow behind Deena.&nbsp; Florida Cracker BBQ is about one mile south of the county courthouse in Greenfield, on State Road 9.&nbsp; The building is red, small, and sits perched amidst a narrow gravel parking lot.[ATTACH]69715[/ATTACH][ATTACH]69716[/ATTACH]The restaurant is tacky.&nbsp; There's no other word for it.&nbsp; Fake wood paneling lines the walls, and wobbly tables obviously bought second-hand from someone else's restaurant failure line floors sticky with gummy residue that a mop and hot water couldn't dream of getting clean.&nbsp; A woman with an eye-watering neon yellow &quot;Florida Cracker BBQ&quot; t-shirt and a pair of jeans that belie a muffin top seats you at two adjoining tables.&nbsp; She slaps a plastic laminated menu down in front of each you.&nbsp; &quot;Special's all-you-can-eat catfish, comes with slaw, texas toast, your choice of dessert, and a drink.&nbsp; $9.95.&nbsp; The waitress saunters off without taking a drink order. [ATTACH]69717[/ATTACH]When the waitress returns, Deena orders fried pickles, Mountain Dew, a pulled pork platter, and a slab of sugar cream pie.&nbsp; Deena is petite, so who the hell knows where she'll put all that food.&nbsp; Before the food arrives, Deena gets up and grabs the Greenfield Daily Reporter, the local newsrag, from the hostess counter.&nbsp; The headline reads: MAYOR CHUCK FEWELL FOUND DEAD AT FOUNTAIN LAKE HOMEDeena quirks an eyebrow.&nbsp; She ignores the plate of fried pickles the waitress puts down in front of her and reads the article, engrossed.&nbsp; After a couple of paragraphs, she snorts in disgust.&nbsp; &quot;Jesus.&nbsp; They didn't even get his wife's name right.&nbsp; Let alone the unit that's doing the investigating.&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="CanadienneBacon, post: 6679750, member: 11146"] Several of you ride with Deena in her sheriff's department panel van, and J.R. and whomever else desires follow behind Deena. Florida Cracker BBQ is about one mile south of the county courthouse in Greenfield, on State Road 9. The building is red, small, and sits perched amidst a narrow gravel parking lot. [left][ATTACH=CONFIG]69715._xfImport[/ATTACH][/left] [right][ATTACH=CONFIG]69716._xfImport[/ATTACH][/right] The restaurant is tacky. There's no other word for it. Fake wood paneling lines the walls, and wobbly tables obviously bought second-hand from someone else's restaurant failure line floors sticky with gummy residue that a mop and hot water couldn't dream of getting clean. A woman with an eye-watering neon yellow "Florida Cracker BBQ" t-shirt and a pair of jeans that belie a muffin top seats you at two adjoining tables. She slaps a plastic laminated menu down in front of each you. [color=red]"Special's all-you-can-eat catfish, comes with slaw, texas toast, your choice of dessert, and a drink. $9.95.[/color] The waitress saunters off without taking a drink order. [CENTER][ATTACH=CONFIG]69717._xfImport[/ATTACH][/center] When the waitress returns, Deena orders fried pickles, Mountain Dew, a pulled pork platter, and a slab of sugar cream pie. Deena is petite, so who the hell knows where she'll put all that food. Before the food arrives, Deena gets up and grabs the Greenfield Daily Reporter, the local newsrag, from the hostess counter. The headline reads: [center][size=5][FONT=Book Antiqua]MAYOR CHUCK FEWELL FOUND DEAD AT FOUNTAIN LAKE HOME[/FONT][/size][/center] Deena quirks an eyebrow. She ignores the plate of fried pickles the waitress puts down in front of her and reads the article, engrossed. After a couple of paragraphs, she snorts in disgust. [color=red]"Jesus. They didn't even get his wife's name right. Let alone the unit that's doing the investigating."[/color] [/QUOTE]

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