Last night I made Jitterbugs for dinner.
This morning at 3:30 a.m. I woke up sick and have lolled around all day whining and moaning.
Or is this the work of the very hairy cook at the Deadly Nightshade Diner – We Never Close who created the dish in the first place?
Jitterbugs, by the way, are decribed this way in the Hoboken Chicken Emergencyclopedia:
jitterbug. Mashed potatoes and meatloaf on Wonder bread with gravy, the specialite de la maison of the Deadly Nightshade Diner–We Never Close. SBBH.
True, none of the ingredients were exactly right, i.e. freezerburned Boca burger instead of meatloaf, sausage gray instead of the brown gravy noted in the book.
Speaking of the Emergencyclopedia…
This would take a lot of work and number-crunching, but it seems to me that page-for-page, the Snarkout Boys books take up more than their share of the Emergencyclopedia.
Why? Because Pinkwater packed Baconburg (the city) full of details. In fact, one might argue that Baconburg is as fully realized as, say, Middle Earth. (Speaking page-for-page again.)
Take a look at this excerpt to see just how many inventions Pinkwater packed into every paragraph:
“It was just a short drive to Lower North Aufzoo Street, where Bignose’s Cafeteria was. I was happy to be going there. It was a place I’d first visited the time Rat‘s uncle, a mad scientist named Flipping Hades Terwilliger, had disappeared and we were looking for him. Bignose’s is the only place I know in Baconburg where you can get Napoleons — that’s a really fantastic pastry, at least the ones Bignose serves are fantastic.”
That’s a lot of great stuff for a kid to obsess over. And the fact that Napoleons sound crazy but are really real adds a weird authenticity to the other stuff.
One could certainly believe that somewhere in, say, Chicago there’s a cafeteria run by a guy with a big nose. But would a place like that really sell Napoleons?
That’s the beauty of the Snarkout books, you don’t know where to draw the line between reality and snarkality.
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