Burger Bum’s Bad Rap

When I shuffle up to a burger joint, occasionally I may go for a salad or soda, but it is probably a safe bet that MOST of the time, I’m looking to be ‘burgerfied’ in a big meaty way and am in need of a beast of a grease feast. Of course if I want a burpy burrito I will bridle one up and ride it to the Bell and if Pizza is in season I might gas up my gut with a trip to the Hut! So recently when my wife and I ventured into the land of the Whopper for my replacement paper crown, we were stunned to find this particular fast food cow kingdom beef-less and patty-free.

Really, no burgers at a burger joint – what have I done to receive such a Royal pain; is this some kind of juiced-up jocular jesters idea of a joke? I knew we couldn’t really be in the Twilight zone because it was pitch black outside and a few zombies zealots were still in line with me in search of fresh meat. I guess I can imagine running out of napkins, ketchup packets or those buns with the sesame seeds which stick to your lips, but when the product is not only featured on the menu but also on the giant 4 story sign outside too, how can you run out of THAT stuff? 

Ultimately bound for our buns, we had to settle for tepid ‘orangeish’ ovoid patties and tasteless breaded nuggets that smelled REAL ‘chicken-y’ but tasted far more like the scoop in the coop. Mmmm, nothing spells sanguine dining satisfaction like pale pressed chicken paste, form-fit to a dry hunk of bread n’ lettuce, all glued together with a squirt of day-old mayo does it? Thank goodness for the gallon jug of Kung Pao goo that we ordered too, which excites alive even the dullest of tounge-buds with an Asian taste sensation.

Oh no don’t worry my high-brow secret identity is not in crisis and my rumpled bum- tum will most certainly live on to see far beefier burgers and even a few real chicken parts in the near future. I don’t claim to be a snobby food critic, nor was this dining experience typical, especially since I do most of my truly elegant eating out of an alley vending machine BETWEEN the bus-stop and the corner 7-11. Though, thanks to new age preservatives, at least THERE I always know EXACTLY what form my nutrition will take … a satisfying ‘lickable’ Twinkie imprint or crumb defiantly stuck to the waxy cardboard and industrial plastic packaging.