Chicken wingnuts on the menu at The Dew Drop Inne

Horace, the gold and bejeweled trophy donated to this contest by artist/satirist Ed Coonce ( appears visibly upset to discover chicken wings on the menu of The Dew Drop Inne


Kenneth Weene has come home to roost after being absent for a while from our site. He has spent the time in a Buddhist monestary aka the Dew Drop Inne.  In his entry for our Wingnuts contest he shares his enlightenment.

Don’t drop in at The Dew Drop Inne

by Kenneth Weene

It’s not just my watering hole; it’s my Goddamned second home. My wife would agree. “You spend more time at the Dew Drop than you spend with me.” She’s said that over and over.

Hell, if she were half so easy to get along with as the guys, I might stay home. Nag, nag, nag: that’s all she does. Can’t a guy sit around in his drawers and enjoy a cold bottle of brew? Is that asking too much?

“Where ya goin’?” she demands.

“Nowheres,” I answer, thinking about my wingman Sal and the cool one he’ll draw the minute I walk in.

Same as every night, but this time she follows me. I can’t remember the last time she was at the Dew Drop. She probably can’t either. But now she’s walking in the door, and all the guys are looking at her. Couple probably want to jump her bones, but they see that look of hers; she’s ready to kill—to kill yours truly.

I got no plan; I’ll just have to wing it. “Hey, Gorgeous,” I try, “you come here often?”

She don’t laugh, just walks over and brings her knee up. I’m bent over gasping for pain and breath when she says it: “I’m leaving you.”

I stare.

“You hear me? I’m leaving!”

Yeah, I heard. “Hey, Sal,” I call loud as my hurting balls allow, “drinks are on me.”

Like I said, I’ll just have to wing it.




Bio info

Sometimes Ken Weene writes to exorcise demons. Sometimes he writes because the characters in his head demand to be heard. Sometimes he writes because he thinks what he have to say might amuse or even on occasion inform. Mostly, however, he writes because it is a cheaper addiction than drugs, an easier exercise than going to the gym, and a more sociable outlet than sitting at McDonald’s drinking coffee with other old farts: in brief because it keeps him just a bit younger.


Ken’s latest book, Tales From the Dew Drop Inne inspired this yolk. You can learn about it and Ken’s other work at






18 thoughts on “Chicken wingnuts on the menu at The Dew Drop Inne

  1. Michael Stang says:

    Jeeze, Ken, sometimes it be like that. What a way to say see ya. Writing so real I had to adjust my own boys to make sure everything was okay, and I love your humor. Natural levity is hard to do unless you do not try to do it. Hats off

  2. Diane Cresswell says:

    Could hear Humphrey Bogart’s voice on this one. The Dew Drop must be quite the place or a wonderful escape from – well whatever you’re escaping from. Done good!!!!

  3. 1948pdobbs says:

    I really like the name of your “hangout” and Thorn needs to be a disc jockey on the side. What a song, a real favorite! Great story and Mike and I agree again, I got a big laugh at your ending, unexpected. Hope to hear from you some more.
    Blessings, pd

  4. Salvatore Buttaci says:

    Ken, my friend, you will never grow old! Your flash is great. It had me laughing all the way through. Great seeing you entertain here at Thorn’s place!

  5. Marta Merajver says:

    Ken, I’m not sure this will take as a comment, but anyway, this is a hilarious piece, and leaves one thirsting for more.

  6. KYLE Katz says:

    I dew love the Dew Drop Inne. There’s some places a woman should just not WANT to go.And then there’s some places a man should always wear a jock strap. They don’t call it enstrapment for nothin.

  7. Tiffany Monique says:

    I like how you managed to get the woman to walk both in and out within this story. Most amusing… According to what you wrote, he WILL have to wing it… the dearly departing wife apparently took the nuts with a knee. I felt sorry for them both. Well done getting me emotionally involved. A good write.

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