Now that’s an amusing clip from Mr John Hughes’ fictionalized version of events, but, although it’s not widely known, I was indirectly responsible for concerned friends of a certain young Ferris Bueller hiring that hooker in an attempt to restore his pluck.
It doesn’t happen too often, but I do occasionally meet somebody who doubts my claim to be the real Sausage King of Chicago. When this happens I usually just chuckle and say “Would you like to see my credentials?”
Then I whip it out.
Let me tell you a story. Back in the early 80’s I had just had a meal with my lovely wife at our favorite restaurant, Chez Quis. We were waiting outside for the valet to bring our car. The driver was new, sporting a ridiculous spiky hairstyle, constantly sneezing and wiping his nose on his sleeve, and really was quite the imbecile to boot. Anyhow, he kept bringing us the wrong damn automobile.
I had such damn awful trouble with my previous internet developers but I’ve cut them loose and I’m now ready to reveal the real guy behind The Sausage King of Chicago.
Well, almost ready. Stay tuned!