A surreal meal

It's been a crazy Saturday here in Huntsville, folks. I ate lunch at Atlanta Bread Company a little while ago, as I often do on Saturday afternoons. Usually, that wouldn't be anything special, but today was a little different. After ordering my normal Southwest chicken salad sandwich, the cashier handed me my ticket and said, "Your order number is 665." So far, so good.

But, then things started to get interesting. As I got my food and sat down, I heard the server call out the next order: "Order number 666." No one responded, so he called it out again, this time over the microphone. "Number 666 - your order is ready."

Finally, an older gentleman walked up to the counter, and as he turned around, I noticed that he bore a striking resemblance to the devil sheriff from "Oh Brother, Who Art Thou" - dark sunglasses and all.

"How weird," I thought. "That guy bears a striking resemblance to the sheriff from 'Oh Brother, Who Art Thou.'" As he walked in my direction toward his table, he caught me looking at him, and suddenly his eyes lit up and fire began to shoot out in all directions, instantly vaporizing the lady in white who was seated at the table next to mine.

I was a little startled, to say the least, but then I thought about the reason I was sitting here in the first place. I had passed up going to Tuscaloosa for today's Alabama-Arkansas game just so I could see Don Williams and Dwight Yoakam play at Big Spring Jam this evening, and there was no way I was going to let some fire-shooting demon alter my plans.

So, as the screams of customers and employees rang through the restaurant, I calmly got up out of my seat and said, "Dude, don't you remember? They changed the number. It's 661, not 666. So, sit your ass down and quit igniting people."

Well, I must say that I've never seen such a stunned look on a devil in all my life. "What are you talking about?" he asked. So, I explained it all to him - about the newly found fragment from Revelation, how new technology had made it legible, blah-blah-blah - and as the glow slowly retreated from his eyes, I actually felt a ping of sympathy come across me. (Or, maybe that was just a hunger pain, since it was 3 o'clock and I hadn't eaten all day.)

"So, I'm not the Antichrist?" he asked, dejectedly.

"No, sorry dude. Apparently, you're not. Besides," I continued, pointing at his basket of food, "Do you really think the Antichrist would be eating soup, salad, and a fruit cup? I mean - he's got a lot of hard, strenuous work to do - surely, he'd be eating at a buffet or something."

"Yeah, I guess you have a point," he replied, and with that, he tossed his meal in the trash and walked out the door, quickly apologizing for the mess he had caused , before disappearing into the muggy Huntsville afternoon.

What a crazy day! Oh well, time to go downtown for the Jam.