Big Mac – Writing post number ten-o

This little piece of delicious is about the last time I had a Big Mac.  For this prompt, we had to set the scene using descriptives from all the senses.  I try, hope you like.

The only time I can say that grease smelled sweet was when I walked under those golden arches and through those glass doors.  Wafting hot air was a pleasant welcoming from the frigid outdoors.  I never dressed appropriately for cold weather.  It wasn’t very busy that night with one cash open serving a hungry line of three.  Already knowing what I wanted, I entertained myself by watching a whale of a woman feeding her portly children.  The chubby fingers of her left hand were jamming fries into her full mouth while her right hand held a cheeseburger in front of a two year old’s bulbous face.  That’s it, keep ‘em good and lazy.  We’ll have robots or tubes feeding us soon, anyway…maybe even microchip stomachs…

“Next!  Next, please!”  I turned my head to see a skinny, Jamaican teenager with heavy, purple eye-makeup glaring at me.

“Ma’am, what can I get for you?”  She kissed her teeth and began to examine the long florescent pink nails she had been tapping on the red counter just a few seconds before.  I ordered and stepped to the side to wait with the other indulgers of fake food.  Starving, the anticipation was killing me.  My mouth watered as I watched the cooks drop fries into the hot oil.  Drink after drink being filled from a waterfall mixed with syrup.  Click, whoosh, click, whoosh.

“Those apple pies look mighty tasty,” I said out loud, laughing with no one in particular.

Feeling slightly awkward from my outburst, I turned my attention to a Toy Story 2 movie poster standing as tall as me.  ‘The toys are back in town’ it read, making sure that Thin Lizzy song would be stuck in my head for at least as long as I stood here.  Annoyed, I picked up a nutritional brochure and flipped through, looking for the items that made up combo number one.  How many sit-ups will I need to do, but won’t do, to work this off?  As expected, a billion.

Finally, my tray was ready.  As my stomach growled and sweat beads started to accumulate above my lip, I wondered when it got so hot in here.  The decision of where to sit was overwhelming.  I hadn’t even eaten yet and I was already getting tired.  A crazy idea passed through my head – maybe I could sit with that obese family and ask the mother to hold my Big Mac while I nibbled at it.

The cleanest table was by the garbage so I decided to sit there and ‘prepped’ my meal.  I opened up the cardboard box to see my burger leaning slightly to the right.  Placing both hands on either side, I squeezed it back into a tower.  I lifted the top half of the bun and a thin patty to remove the pickles sitting in a puddle of ketchup underneath it.  The sour wetness that now coated my fingers disgusted me.  Instead of using a napkin, I licked it off, wincing.

The time had come.  I picked up the burger between my childlike fingers and with my small mouth, bit into the large mass.  Biting down, I could feel the softness of the bun sticking to my palette, the grainy meat separating over my tongue, and the secret sauce oozing into the back of my mouth.  Patiently chewing my food, I breathed through my nose.  Swallow one, then two.

As I ate, I could feel what this burger was going to do to me.  The gurgles, mild pains, and movement in my intestines signalled a red alert.  Even so, I continued to mindlessly eat that Big Mac until the bitter end.

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