You’re My Gyro, Dad

A couple weeks ago I took my dad on a date to the Midwest Museum of Art. They were having an exhibit called “In Search of Norman Rockwell’s America”, and my dad is an aficionado of Norman Rockwell. We had a lovely visit, and then stopped at King Gyro’s for lunch.

I love GYRO’s! That spicy lamb, that creamy bland yogurt, just a touch of tang and then sliced onions and tomatoes. Divine! We shared fries, drank Cokes and stuffed our faces. I commented that it was funny we had so much to say, then all of a sudden it was quiet. Because we were grubbin’!

A week later, I took Farley to my local King Gyros. I guess I was trying to recreate lunch with my dad, but it just wasn’t the same. The gyro was too salty, or the cucumber sauce was, or something. But I did eat every last bit and lick my fingers to boot, so I guess it wasn’t that bad!

Thank you, Dad, for treating me to Gyros and for being a Hero.

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