The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
PHOTO PROMPT © Lori Wilson
The photo shows a little cafe from the outside. In front of one of the windows is a statue of a chef. There are three narrow picnic tables that look like they’re built into the side of the building. The sign above the roof reads, “Shelly’s Cafe and has the logo for Route 66. Along the roof is red, white and blue bunting, probably for the 4th of July.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
BARBECUE KING
“Ain’t nothin’ better than this, son.” Mr. Perry turned a slab of ribs. “Hickory wood’s the secret.”
Seven-year-old Henry breathed in the smokey aroma.
At fifteen Henry left Tennessee to work on the steamboats traveling the Mississippi River. After hours bent over flames and smoke, he’d stand on the deck, dreaming of the future.
“Daddy was right,” he said years later as patrons lined up between 18th Street and Vine to enjoy hot smoked meat wrapped in newsprint for twenty-five cents.
Barbecue’s up to date in Kansas City. I owe Henry Perry a debt of gratitude.
Please pass the sauce.
I can’t deny it. I’m a Kansas City girl and BBQ is in my top ten favorite foods. Of course there are the ongoing debates as to which establishment does it best. I do have my favorites. 😉
A few years ago I was told by a pitmaster in Alabama who learned from a KC pitmaster, “If there ain’t no smoke, it’s a joke. If there ain’t no wood, it ain’t no good.” (Perhaps it came down from Henry Perry.)
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Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 
Pass the Freedoms, Pappy, as ee cummings wrote
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