BRUCE ALL BITEY

Back in the ’70s, there was a guy named Bruce who came into the Weiner King every week or so. He was tall and lanky and graduated high school with me. I considered him to be my friend. Not a close friend, mind you, but a friend just the same.

The Weiner King in Flemington was one of the most popular places in town back in the day. Most customers came back time and time again because they loved the food. Obviously, that was the case with him.

Bruce loved our Texas Weiners. For those of you who might not know, and I would always describe it like a mantra of some kind, “A Texas Weiner is a hot dog with mustard, onions and chili.” Oh, the memories this brings back… Our hot dogs were grilled and the chili was made in-house from a secret family recipe. All meat! No beans! Bruce also loved French Fries and Coca Cola. That’s what he always, always ordered and he usually came in after the lunch crowd was gone. Somewhere between 2:30 – 4:00: that lull time every restaurant experiences.

You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this. So what, some guy likes Texas Weiners, French Fries, and Coke. What’s the big deal? So did almost everyone else.

Well, what made his order special was due to what ALL he ordered. Each time, it was the same exact thing. Bellying up to the counter, he’d say…

“Yes, I’d like seven Texas Weiners, seven large French Fries, and seven large Cokes, please.” Take into consideration that he was always alone. And tall. And thin. And, just in case you’re wondering, NO, seven Texas Weiners, seven large French Fries, and seven large Cokes will not fit on a single tray. I’ll let you figure it out.

Bruce always waited patiently while we went to work. He was soft spoken. We’d pour the seven sodas and he’d take them to a table around the corner, in the very back, so he could be somewhat hidden from view and not noticed by anyone else passing through. You never heard a peep out of him and he’d sit there for quite some time, chewing and sipping away.

After eating all that, he’d throw out his trash. You’d think he’d be heading toward the door, but…

Noooooo!

He didn’t. He came back to the counter to order again. “Yes, I’d like seven Texas Weiners, seven large French Fries, and seven large Cokes, please.” And he’d spend another half hour or so back in his corner, munching away.

I never wanted to believe that one man could consume all that, but Bruce was proof. The girls were always shocked, too, because they were light eaters.

“Where did all that food go?” they’d ask me.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’s got a bathroom at home,” I’d generally respond.

“Ewww!” I had no explanation for it other than to add that everyone’s metabolism is different.

Whatever became of Bruce, I don’t know. After the Weiner King closed, where did he go for his food fix?