I love London at night

Last year at this time, Jami and I visited my granny Wise in the hospital. She'd broken her arm in a fall at her house in the yard as she picking some flowers after she'd been home from dad's for a week. We visited her and then we went to get something to eat. We went to Mamie's kitchen, a local place that had taken over the remnants of a Hardee's. This is the place you go to get country ham and biscuits and gravy for breakfast. It has tiny tables, a vestige of the Hardee's. The tables are not big enough for the trays you carry your food on, so when you arrive at a table with more than one person a kind of awkward balance occurs. Still it's good southern food, which means that it's lard laden and not good for you. As we left, we were some miles down the road, when Jami said, "you know, that place, the food's obscene, I almost had to say, 'Porno gravy for me.'" Or she said something like that. Anyway, there you have it: Pornogravy. I think of that when I contemplate my earlier Margarine of error pun: pornogravy and margarine of error - two great tastes for the Fall. Would the Fall have been different if Adam and Eve had been a bit more mature: "hey what do you know, we're naked. No shame in that. What kind of pie do you reckon we could make from this. Do you think God'd like some?"