I'm jus sittin' at Burger King
This sad world don't mean a thing
My mind is
blank
as
a french fry
... pass th ketchup Daddy
.............................................................................
... Daddy? please pass th ketchup?
.............................................................................
... PLEASE PASS TH KETCHUP DADDY!
... huh? oh yeah, here, I'll pour
a ritual ... a ritual these places an th things we do in them ... a corner
table, sticky black plastic chairs ... uncomfortable ... floor covered with sea green
tiles, swirls ... hourglass shaped in global patterns like some chem industry ocean worn
grey by too many feet, too many spilled beans ... undistinguished kinda place full of
plain people eating plain food ... it's delivery time. (at night!!?) first Iceman arrives
w/ his cold blue fingers, then Meatman swaggers in accompanied by caws, cackles an rude
laughter from th waitresses ... one even goes in back w/ him, to help hang-up some meat no
doubt ... food smells mix to a brown nosefull ... faint odor of roach spray ... over at th
counter a group of oldsters infected by th Uth Disease (remember that manufactured virus
popular a few years back?) primp, preen, giggle an generally act like th 80 yr old JDs
they r ... food is before me, it is handmade, a blessing ... locals eye us w/ peripheral
curiosity ... kids' heads barely above table level, girl younger, tiny face serious over
huge burger, boy a bit older, meal doesn't look so large, an expanse to eat away ... this
ritual ... th pouring of ketchup so solemn an precise ... they still won't eat but a few
bites, save th rest for later, cold burgers inna chill autotrip dawn ...
... wucha doin Daddy?
... oh, nuthin ... jus writing on a napkin
... writing? why r u writing onna napkin Daddy?
... justa poem. I don't have anything else to write on.
... wut's it say?
... yeah Daddy, read it to us!
th greasy coffee makes me roar
I chew th rug
I ask for more
... wow neat that coff... that soda I drink makes me
burp!
... yeah, it makes me fart Daddy!
... hmmmm ...... (munch munch munch)
... Daddy? when will we reach th South?
(a chill falls over th restaurant - a silence like listening ... imagination?
... no?)
... soon kids
... Daddy? uh, Daddy? will we go up to see Mommy when
we're there?
(do they? no!)
( oh E! why did u have to be taken away?)
... Mommy's always w/ us. u know that.
(th South! th South! an iron lamppost ...
damp worn cobblestones ... clouds of humid bugs)
th ritual ... yes ... we must complete th ritual, change th subject
... hey, who needs to go to th bathroom?
... no way!
... not me!
... wut? common u two, we're going to be back on th road
soon
... not this bathroom Daddy
... yeah, there's a monster in there!
... a monster?
... yeah, a monster's gonna eat us up!
... yeah, a big bad sucker dude of a monster in there is
gonna eat us up!
... ok ok
(kids usually like bathrooms, each one some exiting lost continent ... but now
... something? ... huh?)
... I have to go, u all order dessert.
I reach into my pocket an pull out a PROTECTOR™, stick it into th table
... anyone touches these kids will be chopped liver in an instant ... unstick, crawl out
of th gross seat, stumble a bit ... over there ... in th back ... as I wander over I
notice that no one is sitting anywhere near ... time seems to stretch, unwind, familiar
sounds an connections fading, each step an emptiness ... crazy? I turn around ... relief!
my world is still there.
... watch out for th monster Daddy!
