There he was. Sitting in the bedroom. Alone. Shaking his head. Smirking slightly. Unsure what to say or how to say it, but looking for the courage to confess nonetheless. He’d never misled her on purpose before. Fibbed, maybe. Strung her along in jest, possibly. Told a little white lie as part of a larger surprise, definitely. But never misled her quite like this. Amy was sitting on the couch when he walked in. The screen glowed on her face and her glasses pushed down near the tip of her nose.

She looked up. He sat down.

She smiled her Hey, sweetie! smile, the one where her teeth don’t quite show all the way. The content, peaceful one that nobody else gets to see. He sighed and looked down. He grabbed her hands and looked straight into her eyes with the most serious face she’d seen all day. The smile left her face and concern washed over it.

“Sweetie…” she started. “Is everything okay?”

“I have a confession to make,” Jordan replied.

*   *   *

Two times in the previous week, Jordan had left the house and picked up Chick-fil-A for lunch. One chicken sandwich with extra pickles for him. A 12-count chicken nugget for her. And two hot, crispy, large orders of waffle fries to share. YUM! Both times, though, Jordan hadn’t eaten breakfast earlier that day. Both times, he was hungry. And both times, on the 5-minute drive home, he did the no-look, one-handed, fast food french fry grab, promising himself the first one each one would be the last one. But it wasn’t. How could it be? These were WAFFLE fries!

These were WAFFLE fries!

By the time Jordan left the parking lot, he’d eaten one half order of waffle fries. His order of waffle fries. At that rate, they’d ALL be gone by the time he got home, and he’d have no fries for his sandwich. No Ginger Rogers for his Fred Astaire. No Kate for his William. No perfect compliment for the perfect lunchtime meal. So, he did the logical thing. Out of selfishness. Or out of blind addiction. He started eating Amy’s waffle fries to even the score. One at a time. Just like with his. And, by the time the garage door opened and the paper bag closed, he’d eaten HALF of hers, too! When he walked in the door with the piping hot bag of greasy goodness,
poor unsuspecting Amy sprang off the couch like a happy puppy and made herself cozy at the table. One box and wrapper at a time, Jordan pulled out her order — and his — and placed them on the red placemats that covered the clear glass table. Amy’s excitement quickly changed to confusion and little bit of bitterness. She was serious about her waffle fries. “I think we might need to say something to Chick-fil-A the next time we’re there. This is the second time we’ve ordered large waffle fries and they’ve only filled them halfway. It just seems so inconsistent with their business model. It doesn’t make sense…”

Jordan took a deep breath in and exhaled, “Yeah… It sure doesn’t…”

*   *   *

Silence was still hanging in the air, the truth hovering over them like a helicopter waiting to land. Finally, as Jordan gripped her hands and gazed straight into her eyes, he mustered the courage. He told her. Everything. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The no-look, one-handed waffle fry grab. The mid-drive waffle fry swap. The whole story. Or, if you’re feeling punny, the whole meal deal. Amy ‘s eyes got wider and wider. Her jaw opened into a half-smirk, half-gasp. She’d been betrayed! She’d been cheated! She’d been denied her God-given, American right to a full container of glorious, hot, crispy waffle fries! She was shocked. She was outraged! And not because Jordan ate her fries.

She was disappointed in him because he didn’t just get three large fries in the first place.

Waffle Fry

Want to catch up on The Pink Slip Files? You can read them all right here:

Intro: What Are the Pink Slip Files?
No. 1: Failing Pre-Marital Class & Otter DNA
No. 2: Sink or Swim
No. 3: Turning Off the Lights
No. 4: Leave a Message at the Tone
No. 5: Chocolates, Mystery Shows & Honeymooning
No. 6: Cutting Coupons & Wal-Mart Jeans
No. 7: Paper Chains of Memories
No. 8: Dancing on Bar Tops
No. 9: Man’s Best (Feline) Friend
No. 10: Confessions of a Waffle Fry
No. 11: What’s So Important About Shoelaces?
No. 12: Breaking Records… Like It’s 1924
No. 13: Why We’re Not as Classy as We Thought
No. 14: A Letter to My Only Starbucks Lover
No. 15: The Night We Killed Someone (Kind Of)
No. 16: Lord, It’s a Fire!

    Cinnamon Wolfe

    ha! There is not a Chick-fil-A within 100 miles of me and now all I want are some nuggets and some fries so thanks a lot. Good news, I'm headed to Albuquerque on Sunday so I can get my fil (-A) when I am there for the week! HA!

    Amy & Jordan

    There's one 5 minutes from our house, but we always think of it on Sundays, so we made a new pact that if we EVER think about it and it's NOT on a Sunday, we're getting it!!!

    Julie Wilmes

    There is so much truth to this that it hurts. French fry theft is a serious crime! :P

    Amy & Jordan

    Preach it, girl!

    Sara Nevels

    This is hilarious! My take-away? Extra pickles. Genius!

    Amy & Jordan

    Genius, right?! I heard it the other day and couldn't believe I'd lived without it!