Jack's Cafe Ameri-Can: A Clean, Well-Righted Place!

If Jack Bauer tells me I'm going to like something, I'm going to like it.

"Do you want me to move the lamp over here," said Jack. He added, "For better lighting, of course."

It was our first date, and nobody was more surprised than me to find Kiefer Sutherland's Jack Bauer waiting tables.

"The Hollywood sissy writers are striking, and that includes Fox's "24," said Jack Bauer. So I cooked up this little operation. When you're a small business owner," sneered Jack. "You do everything. That includes cleaning up."

My date smiled. I just gulped.

I ordered what Jack ordered me to order; my date gladly did too, forgetting about how moments earlier she had thought about getting a salad.

"We don't have salads here," said Jack. "Trust me, they are for sissies and commies and undercover terrorists."

It was a special day at Jack's Cafe Ameri-Can. The new President of the United States was expected to stop and have lunch. The Secret Service didn't need to sweep Jack's place. They new he had it under control. As you walked in there was a wall of pictures with the World's Most Wanted. Most had big red "X's" painted across them.

"Of course he's invited. I invited him personally," said Jack. Jack Bauer was now seated at our table, the chair turned in reverse, his arms across the top of the chair. "He'll come. They always do."

Why, I wondered.

"You aren't going to eat that?" asked Jack. His nine was dangling in his hand over the back of the chair.

"I was just going to."

"You'll like it. It's Mama Bauer's old family recipe. I taught it to Chloe. Chloe O'Brian. We're going to start franchising, and she's going to open Jack's Cafe Ameri-Can 2."

"Any Chinese?" I asked, thinking some szechwan might be nice.

Jack was puzzled. Then his face brightened. "Only dead ones."

Jack's cell rang.

It was Chloe O'Brian in the kitchen, Jack's cranky CTU sidekick from Fox's 24, and computer wiz. "I'll be back", said Jack. He ran out the door, commandeered a helicopter, and raced back to the kitchen, where we saw him moments later. It was an emergency. No butter.

We were finishing our meals when they walked in, one after the other.

"Let's stay," I said to my date. She was slipping a take out menu into her purse with Jack's cell number on it.

"His cell always works," she sighed. "For calls too."

It was no big deal when Jack greeted the President and Osama bin Laden and seated them at the special VIP table in the kitchen.

We settled our bill.

"How was everything?" Jack asked. He shoved a new cartridge in his automatic.

My tip was 500% of the bill, and my date added her bra and panties.

"I see you have some celebrities in the kitchen."

Jack never smiles. Never. But he did manage a smirk. "Yes, they come for the food --I told you. And the conversation."

"What are you serving them?"

"It's one of President Hillary Clinton's favorites. She and Osama go way back." He released the safety. "Trust me, it will stick to their ribs."