Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Man, I'd give a nickel for a Pronto Pup right now. Wonderful wiener on a stick, dipped in lovely ProntoPup batter and fried to a golden brown cripsey deliciousness.
I've been dreaming about these babies for days now. What kind of space program forgot to make provisions for Pronto Pup production on the spacey station, I'll never know. How do they expect to ever get PolyBears to Mars if they can't even fry up a Pronto Pup in space?
I know - I can't figure it out either. Frankly I is worried about our spacey program.
All I know is somewhere down there, there is a State Fair midway with a little
Pronto Pup stand, and they are dipping wieners in batter as I type out this letter of love. I close my eyes and I can smell them frying away in that 350 degree hot Crisco. Can you smell the mustard on those little guys? Well, I can. One Pronto Pup. Two Pronto Pups. As many Pronto Pups as a PolyBear wants. Mmmmmmmmmmmmustard...
Oh no! I has slipped over the edge! I is going Pronto Pup crazy!