Don't eat since breakfast and close your eyes. Relax. Loosen your belt and let your shoulders, neck, arms and everything else just gooooooo. But don't fall asleep like I do when I act like that.
Whilst in this heightened and elevated state of ahhhhhh, I want you to imagine a nice, fat, white, bun with the perfect amount of mustard and mayo and iceberg lettuce and a fat boy tow mattah and a big boy un youn (correctly pronounced urn yawn) on a hot slab of ground beef that has two slices of crispy bacon and some sharp cheddar and the whole thing is being squeezed together on one of those hot sandwich irons that make the top and bottom of the bun all crispy-wispy. Then they slice it in two and poke it with tooth picks and the juice ooozes and they put a bunch of you can't get anything better than these onion rings in the whole world in the middle of it all. Then the nice lady says "Here ya go Honey. You're drinkin' Coke? Right?"
I like being called Honey. Nowaday women don't like it when you call then that but it makes me feel like a sexy young boy and we all know that's a long gone fat lie but I don't care. I thought women wanted to be sexy? What's up with that? Today, I was a Honey and sexy and it was all good.
That is until my mouth took a hold of various sections of the above described combo of Godly flavors known around here as a Nikki burger with a side a rangs. You put your own ketchup on it. All over it. When that happened, I became Pop Eye and spinach. Oyster and a cracker. Yin and yang and bourbon and soda Superman and Batman and Robin, all with decently non-enhancement pants on. Oh boy! Sooooo very, very good!
So yeah, the atmosphere at Nikki's is great but it don't taste like Heaven on Earth. What about the burgers and rings and fries and KILLER shrimp??? What will happen if that all goes away? I fear there will be blood in these River City streets. There will. I will lead the riots.
So what about it Nikki's? Think of Field of Dreams where Shoe-less Joe Jackson whispers into Keven Costner's ear: "If you build it, they will come." Surely there's another place for you in the North Shore? Just move all of your stuff, the sandwich irons in particular, to another spot? Come on man, what say?