The M eating Joint
There is a new eatery place in my hood, you don't want to know where i live, believe me. But it’s called The Meating joint whatever that name means.... and so my best friend Grace who happens to be the social elite in our groupie of two comes up with this brilliant idea that we should say hello to the eatery... as a good sign of neighbor-ship, whatever that means. Although on diet, i decide it never hurt nobody to try as we proceed to the eatery on one fateful Saturday. The place is buzzing with humanity; no doubt they like it here, i sigh in relief. We secure our wooden seats next to the window just in case, you know these kind of places... Grace is happy i could attend. She doesn't know that i did it for her, we have had our fair share of trouble in the past but she has always been there for me, so why not oblige? It’s no secret that I am a vigorous and unapologetic carnivo...