The Rolls Royce TV Tray

My brother asked me, "Just what is a Rolls Royce TV tray?" I told him, if he has to ask, then he can't afford one.
     To me, a Rolls Royce of anything means the top of the line of that particular product. For example, I'm the Rolls Royce of all my brothers and sisters. My brother, on the other hand, is more of a Yugo.
     Believe it or not, my brother used to drive a Yugo in high school. It belonged to our grandmother, until even she realized what a piece of crap it was, and gave--GAVE--the car (Technically, it qualified. Barely.) to my Dad.
     My Dad, in turn, gave it to my brother, because my Dad--who grew up so poor that, if he hadn't been born a boy, he would not have had anything to play with--was too embarrassed to be seen in an automobile that was one step down from the Flintstone-mobile.
     He offered it to me first. I thanked him, and told him I'd rather take the bus. I had my pride, and the city bus was still several levels above that Yugo. Besides, I was single at that time,, and instinctively knew I had a better chance picking up girls riding the city bus than driving the Yugo. But I digress...
     You've seen the basic TV trays. They're paper-thin and made out of something that resembles tin foil, only not as strong. The tray is always a strange color with a strange design. The legs only come in one height, and are wobbly and very weak. When you buy the tray, they're usually bundled up with about five others, and you have to buy the whole darn thing. They work pretty well, until you actually have to put some food on them. A McDonald's Kids Meal is enough to make it crumple underneath the weight.
     Now, the kind my Dad has can only be bought one at a time. To buy half a dozen, you might have to take out a second mortgage on your house. The tray is a solid, manly black. Heavy duty. It has Kryptonian strength, as if it had been made on a planet with a red sun. It does a good job holding all the food my Dad eats. It's probably made out of the same material The Beast is made from. You've heard of The Beast, haven't you? It's the President's limo.
     The tray has a cup holder AND a coffee cup holder, with spacious compartments for other stuff, like a cow or a tank. The legs are made out of titanium, and it has a radar-resisting coating. It's strong. Strong enough to not only support a McDonald's Happy Meal, but a McDonald's Happy Meal with Ronald McDonald on top besides.
     The legs that face the chair is curved and shaped to let the eater get in and out of his chair. Not like the basic tray that locks the eater in the chair, and they have to move the tray every time they want to get up. (Which begs the question: Just why do you need to be getting up so often when you should be sitting down in one place and eating. Maybe when I'm 94 years-old, I'll find out.) The tray height can be adjusted. My Dad sets the height to his delight, and then chows down. I think it can be set to eight or nine different heights.
     It was me who actually bought it for my Dad, and not one of the things he sneaks into our cart when we're shopping at Costco. I admit, it was a weak moment.
     My wife was actually surprised when I walked into the house with it. She probably thought I had bought it for myself. She raised one eyebrow and gave me a new look that I had never seen before. It was her Why-would-you-buy-a-TV-tray? look.
     Before she could say anything, I told her, "Look what I bought for my Dad." She let me know how proud she was of me later that night.
     Hubba, hubba.
 
 

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