Petrified Potato

Audrey and I are in Avon enjoying a little retreat. We really love our villa, and the weather here is perfect. The colors are beautiful with the fall foliage. And we have a pool side room away from the highway, which means, peace and quiet.

We decided to walk down to Outback for dinner. Audrey ordered the pork chop and I ordered the steak. Mine came with a baked potato. Just before bringing the meals out the server informed me that they were out of baked potatoes. So I ordered French fries. When she brought the meal there was a baked potato and the server said, "I guess there were a couple left." So I was fine with that.

After I ate a little bit off the top of the potato, I used my steak knife to cut it. I sawed back-and-forth with my knife, but could not get through the potato. I told Audrey that I needed a sawsall. When I finally did cut a chunk of potato off it was a tasty, chewy, crunchy mass in my mouth. We had our laughs, and I demonstrated the procedure for the server. She was horrified, but not horrified enough to subtract it from the bill. But that was OK with us, too. Everything else was delicious.

When we were leaving, Audrey saw the server bringing someone else a baked potato. We wondered where that came from.