Hank

SugarBalls and I decided to have a few vittles at a cute cafe in Atlanta. We enjoyed a very healthy lunch and were all proud of ourselves for eating healthy. We both agreed that it would have tasted better at a few bucks less, but whatever. We were having our chat time and it was all good. Feeling full of goodness, I was relaxing and discussing how dire my pedicure situation was, when SugarBalls gasped and blanched. I wondered what it could be, white clogs with nail-head trim, an ex-boyfriend, David Beckham. Nope. It was, as he was dubbed a few short minutes later, Hank.

Hank was the largest cockroach that we had ever seen. That is saying a lot living in the South, were they can be weighed in ounces. Hank was strolling through the dining room of this counter restaurant. I don't kid when I say strolling. I have never seen a cockroach move SO slowly. He was meandering, not skittering like his brethren. It was as if he was making his suggestions to the patrons waiting in line. "Have the chicken salad, it is great! Avoid the watermelon, my uncle died in there this morning." The worst part was the couple of patrons that noticed Hank and REMAINED IN LINE.

SugarBalls and I both turned green and headed for the hills. I will give you two guesses where we will not be lunching again.