Fifty Shades of Beef - A work of burgerotica.
He'd driven past the diner many times, always curious, but had never approached until today. As he put the car in park, he gazed through the plate-glass windows at the people inside. Were they happy? Were they sated?
Opening his door, he caught a waft of something...fries? Gravy? It was intoxicating, almost...seductive. He clicked the button on his key fob as he walked to the front door, activating the car alarm. The door handle is warm, almost uncomfortably hot, from the July afternoon sun. It feels good in his hand as the door swings wide on silent hinges.
Inside, he is greeted by a happy cacophony. From the diners, grunting and mumbling sounds as people try to talk around mouthfuls of ground beef and bread. From the counter, cooks talk to each other and take orders from the cashier. It is a joyful riot of sound. The *right* sound.
He approaches the cashier to order. She looks him up and down, taking in his manly girth and solidness. A knowing smile parts her lips. She knows he is a man of great experience and taste. She visibly flushes slightly as she runs the tip of her tongue across her lips, moistening them in anticipation of what is to come.
The menu is a buffet of colour. Text and pictures in perfect harmony, imparting the knowledge of the universe. He carefully peruses the offerings, his eyes widening at each option revealed. Finally, he makes his choice.
"So, what can I get for you?" Her voice is deep and husky, practically oozing desire and raw sensuality. She leans forward over the cash register, waiting.
"Uh, hi. I'm going to have the peameal burger combo." The statement drops on the counter like a challenge. She rises to it, bosom heaving in excitement of the ensuing pas de deux.
"Do you want a 'peameal burger' that's just peameal bacon and the bun, or do you want a hot, juicy beef patty on that burger?" Did she just wink at him? Does she think he's not man enough to handle a beef AND peameal burger? PSHAW!
"What kind of question is that? Beef AND peameal. And throw some sauteed mushrooms and onions on there. Oh, and a fried egg." She had been nodding at each add-on, but at the fried egg, her knees buckled as naked lust envelops her, forcing her to clutch the edge of the countertop. Recovering, she meets his smouldering gaze.
"...and a fried egg." Biting her bottom lip shyly, she lowers her eyes. "Do you want fries or onion rings? It comes with a fountain pop." Oh God, she thinks, let him say 'fries'.
"Fries, please. And a side of gravy." At the word 'gravy', a gasp escapes her and a visible shudder passes through her body.
She manages to stammer "The refills on the pop are free. That'll be $35.96..." The transaction finally ends, both he and she glistening with sweat from the heat of the exchange. He takes his receipt with his order number, fills his cup from the fountain drink dispenser and chooses a table.
While he waits, he struggles to calm his racing heart. It is a vain effort, as the thought of the burger to come swirl in his brain like a tempest of culinary rage.
After an eternity of a few minutes, he hears his number being called. He stands and makes his way to the prep counter. A young man, in the prime of life, bearded and be-piercinged, stands ready to dress his burger. Wordlessly, he points at each condiment and vegetable to be added, and the young artiste de l'hamburger makes it so.
"Sir, if I may be so bold, that is a serious burger." The impudent remark comes as the grill-meister lays a half-pound beef patty, topped with cheese, a slab of peameal bacon and a fried egg on top of the dressed bun.
He fights back a sneer as he steps back from the counter and gestures as his body. "Son, this...this temple...was not built on a foundation of salad." Now the sneer shines free. "No, this temple was built on a foundation of MEAT."
Jaw agape in awe and wonder, the youngster wraps the burger in foil-lined paper and places it on the tray next to a box of thick-cut, well-done fries and a small styrofoam cup filled with steaming hot beef gravy.
With a short nod of "Yeah, son. Recognize a man of the world. A man of the burger." he takes his tray and goes back to his table. There is silence from the staff, from the whole diner, as he sits and unwraps the burger.
There it sits, juices glistening on the sides of the 8oz beef patty, condiments oozing slightly out from under the bun. He reaches for it with trembling hands, but stops. Instead, he grabs the fries and dumps them out onto the waxed paper on the tray, applying malt vinegar and a little pepper. He selects a fry and dips it into the gravy. The gravy is thick, viscous. The fry stands unsupported in the middle of the little cup. He pulls it out and blows on it to cool the gravy slightly before putting it in his mouth. His eyes close in rapture. The heat of the gravy spreads over his tongue, awakening it for the salt'n'peppery potato goodness to follow. He chews slowly, thoughtfully, relishing every bit of flavour and texture. He opens his eyes, the burger waiting on the periphery of his view. He eats a few more fries, teasing himself with the idea of tearing into that magnificent sculpture of bread, sauces, vegetables, cheese and meat.
He can wait no longer.
He cradles the burger in his hands, juices running down his forearms as he turns it this way and that, looking for the best place to make that first bite. He chooses. The maw opens wide, but not wide enough to fit the whole height of the burger in, forcing him to take a partial bite.
The sun explodes. Galaxies whirl in their courses, careening around the universe, birthing and dying in blazing cascades of creative and destructive energies. He realizes an awareness of all things within the universe, from the rise of life on a distant planet to the dripping of the ice dispenser behind him. Every chew releases new sensation, new revelation, new perceptions. He can hear the beating of the cashier's heart as she watches him, seeing without turning his head the physical manifestations of her excitement. Part of his mind wonders if her lycra top will be sufficient to contain her breasts as they strain against the fabric.
Finally, he finishes chewing and swallows. His eyes slowly refocus, pupils becoming undilated. Animal lust takes over, and he tears into the burger like a starving wolf. Great gobbets of beef and bread ripped away, hurriedly chewed and swallowed. Juices and condiments drip to the paper, they coat his face and hands as he struggles to eat as much of the burger as he can, as fast as he can. The diner disappears in a blur of red haze.
Some time later, he becomes aware that he is sitting at the table, hands empty. His fingers still curl like they are holding a burger. People are looking at him in respectful quiet. He picks up his napkin and wipes his face, knowing that it will not be enough to clean his hands. Leaning back in contentment, eats a few more fries. It is like holding hands and spooning after lovemaking.
He finishes his soda and gets up to go wash his hands. The crowd parts before him as he makes his way to the washroom. Upon emerging, they burst into spontaneous applause and cheers.
As he passes the cashier, he looks over at her and blows her a kiss. "Damn good burger, girl."
He knows that the loud thump he hears as he exits the diner is the cashier swooning and fainting.
"Damn good burger."
