This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.
For the last 35 miles there had been 73 (he counted them) signs advertising Pedro’s restaurant. The kids in back read aloud every one. Actually it became a shouting contest between them.
“Your Always A wiener at Pedro’s.”
“You Never Sausage a place.”
“Pedro’s Weather Report: Chile Today, Hot Tamale.”
And the most appropriate one: “Keep Yelling Kids They’ll Stop.”
He knew they were in trouble when they crested the slow climb of I-95 into South Carolina. Looking to his right he saw what once was Pedro’s.
As they passed by the last sign said: “Back Up Amigo, You Missed It.”