Stuckey's.
Oh what fond memories those are. To be filled with hate at such a young age…
There was a Stuckey's on I-94 annnnnnnddddddd…
They don't have them anymore in Michigan. This was years ago now. But we would stop on the way to Terre Haute and just fill up the trunk with pecans. Filled up completely. Had to put the luggage and the toilet seat in the back. Big old garbage bags filled with roasted pecans. Scooped from the bags into the trunk with bare hands. Nobody washed. That was the specialty. And oh were they good.
They had a nougat log roll. With lemon and cherry flavor inside the nougat. And Stuckey's always wanted to sell you a log roll. All we needed – only thing Pastor wanted – were the pecans. Just the pecans! Simple! We had to fill up the baptismal tub. 2 ounces of log roll, you know, you're not getting through the door! We wanted a state trooper to pull us over and ask uncomfortable questions about all the pecans in our trunk. Maybe ask us to take them out and count them in front of him, cure his loneliness. It was a thrill!
And God help you if you ate in the dining room. Stuckey's had a dining room, if you could call it that, just off the side of the gift shop. The meat was dry! Oh God, dry! They bring out this shoe leather. All you wanted was a hamburger or a decent steak. And never enough napkins.
The other thing was that all the waiters, the entire waitstaff, they were mutes. All of them. Very peculiar.
“Can I get a glass of milk with my pecans?”
And all you'd hear, was this faint whistling noise. Just air passing through the throat. “These pecans are salty, I need milk!” Nothing. Wouldn't hire you if you could talk. Old Man Stuckey, he'd test them. Sneak up on them and throw a horseshoe at them. If they shrieked, they were gone.
You could never get enough napkins. It's worth repeating.
All I know is that both Michigan locations burned down on the same night. And it wasn't in the papers.
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