Since there's never been any official record of a Captain Tso, Cap Tsao, Cap AnythingrelatedtospicyAmericanizedChineseFoodwithChicken, I like to think he's Mongolian and relentless. But in control of his army.
Well, don't be sad - because two out of three ain't bad.
It all started, as it usually does, with a simple question: "What do you want to do for lunch?"
Every day, this question. Nobody can ever come to a conclusion. Well, fear not. Today, someone came in with "Let's get King Shing!". King Shing is an awesome Chinese restaurant in Ann Arbor. Had to look it up. Wasn't sure if it was A2 or Ypsi. Anyhow....
Egg Foo Yung is my go to. Basically an omelette with gravy. I've realized lately that a lot of Chinese places don't have it on the menu. King Shing joins that group. At least, they don't have it for a lunch combo. So I opted for the Tso. It came earlier than expected, and was awesome. One of the best work lunches I've had. Unfortunately, my request for "hurt me" as the heat level seemed to ignored.
Or so I thought.
General Tso got me an hour later. Almost off-guard. Luckily, or not so much so, there was the thick cotton barrier between his army, and the destruction of the work toilet.
Initially, I took the elevator to the basement - there's a bathroom down there that very people use. No luck - it was at full capacity. Went up to the second floor side bathroom and just as I was dropping trou, the janitor started pounding on the door. I pulled my scrubs up and stiff walked to the basement crapper, which was now empty. What happened next could only be described as an extinction level event.
General Tso wreaked havoc on both my body and the bathroom. My Hanes held steadfast, like the Great Wall of China, against the two small platoons of warriors that broke rank.
I ended up going commando for the rest of the day.
I can just feel the burning hatred whenever the custodian looks at me. There's no way he didn't know who's underwear ended up in the garbage that day.
Eat shit, Tso.
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