A Fistful of Condiments

Steven and I had a lunch date with our favorite Foerth on Friday. We were planning to meet at the Chick-fil-a for a quick bite to eat before heading to pick up Steven's mom and brother at the airport. First, we had to drop off some photos at Momma Dawn's house, and since my brothers Beau and Eddie are currently on a two week break from school, Steve invited them along to eat with us.

We pulled into the Chick-fil-a parking lot, looking around for Foerth's car. Instead, we saw Foerth jogging toward us, dodging in between parked cars.

It was just a typical day with Foerth. We joked around with him on the way inside to order our food. Steve took Beau and Eddie's orders, then sent them along to find a table. I followed them, and got Cadence strapped into her high chair.

"Do you think we need an extra chair?" I asked Beau and Eddie. "Or can Foerth just squeeze in the booth on your side?"

"No way," said Eddie. "Foerthy Foerth can sit over here with us. There's plenty of room."

Along came Steven with our drinks. He set them down on the table, and then headed back to the front to retrieve napkins and ketchup. Next came Foerth. In one hand, he carried an extra large Coke. The other hand was overflowing with packets of various condiments.

"Dude! What is all that?" Eddie asked when Foerth dumped the packets on the table, and then began pulling even more from his pockets.

Foerth looked at Eddie and said matter-of-factly, "It's mayonnaise. What does it look like?"

"Holy cow man! How much mayonnaise do you need?" Eddie exclaimed.

Steven arrived before Foerth could answer, dropping a few packets of ketchup in the middle of the table for the boys to share.

"Dang! What is all that?" Steven asked.

"It's mayonnaise!" Foerth said abruptly, as if annoyed that he kept having to answer the same question over and over again. He pulled a plastic bag with the Chick-fil-a logo from his pocket and began filling it with the mayonnaise packets.

"And what the hell is that?" Steven asked, pointing at the bag.

"Um...a bag. What does it look like?"

"Foerth," said Steven.

"Yes?"

"Foerth, what's with the mayonnaise?"

"What do you mean?"

"Foerth, what are you doing with all that mayonnaise?" Steven asked.

"What?" said Foerth testily. "I'm out of mayonnaise."

Steven and I looked at each other, and then started to laugh.

"Foerth, where did you get that bag?" Steven asked.

"They gave it to me," Foerth replied.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Are you telling me that you asked the lady at the counter for a bag so you could steal mayonnaise?"

"What?! Foerth!" Eddie said, and then he and Beau burst out laughing.

"Oh Jesus, Foerth," Steve said, shaking his head. "Why don't you just go buy some mayonnaise?"

"What? And waste it?" Foerth snapped. "I'm moving in less than a week. How am I supposed to eat a whole jar of mayonnaise?"

"You know, they make tiny little jars right?" I asked, laughing. "I mean, if you wanted to make yourself a tuna sandwich this week, you could've just bought one of the little jars."

"Whatever," Foerth said, blushing. "Eddie move over."

"No way dude, you're sitting in the middle," said Eddie, standing up so Foerth could squeeze in between him and Beau.

By the time our food arrived, we had moved onto other topics, and Steven and Foerth were arguing loudly over who was going to win Sunday night's football game--the Giants or the Bears. Eddie took the top bun off his chicken sandwich, removed the tomatoes and put them aside, and then began to sift through the condiment packets on the table. After a moment, he leaned over and nudged Foerth.

"Yo man, can I get some mayonnaise?" he asked.

"Go to hell," said Foerth. And in spite of several minutes of pleading, Eddie never did get any mayonnaise.