The term “Don’t shit where you eat” doesn’t apply to hillbillies. Instead, the term “Shit, eat, and fill ‘er up” is more appropriate.
I went up the hill and followed my nose to the Willow Creek Chevron where the food selection was actually rather vast. Corn dog? Fajitas? A milkshake machine where you mix it yourself?
Wait. I’m not thinking like a hillbilly.
I had a discussion with an East Coast friend where she was appalled that I considered myself a hillbilly. “But you have all your teeth!” she said.
I get a little upset at the representation of country folk in the media.They are all Cletus the Slackjawed Yokel. The richest person I have ever met was a farmer, and not even of weed. Of food! That happens!
Right now there is rabbit meat in my freezer, I live in the country, and I am the person people call when they would like their goats not to have balls. I feel like that makes me kind of a hillbilly. For the sake of this review I think it would behoove us all if I thought about hillbillies in the stereotypical way, but I’m telling you it hurts my heart.
MOUNTAIN DEW. Duh. And corndogs are too uppity, like a hotdog in a fur coat with a stick up its ass, so I’ll go straight up Jack Link’s meat and cheese sticks. Together they are called the “All American,” and if you pass them up I guess you’re a commie.
They tasted exactly how you would expect. They tasted like the movie Wild Hogs.
The best part of this Chevron is Josh, my favorite employee. He endeared himself to me by filling my barbecue propane and exclaiming, “Sure is fuckin’ hot!”
Hillbilly meal: 1 star
Propane: 4 stars
Josh: 5 stars
If you’d like your goat not to have balls, email me.