A Hungover Ode to Hector's

Last night we should have gone to Hector's. But the line was so long at this fine Chapel Hill late-night eatery that we decided to hit up another classic, Time Out. And while chicken on a biscuit is awesome, I'm having some buyer's remorse this next afternoon because apparently Hector's is going to be closing.

Why you ask? So that the stupid East End Martini Bar can expand skyward. It just isn't right. So in honor of Hector's, here's a short hungover poem I just wrote:

Hector’s is the place to eat a
Cheeseburger upon a pita.
One guy throws it toward the grill,
Landing smoothly – that’s the drill.
Some girls in line are pretty hot,
I think I’ll get some tater tots.
But suddenly it’s got to close
So that martini-drinking hoes
Can have more room to drink their drinks
Various shades of reds and pinks.
I’m anti- the martini cause --
I’d rather have Tzatziki sauce.
So as martini people get their wishes
I’ll say fuck that –- Hector’s bitches!