The Hamburger Fiasco (To my sister)

The Hamburger Fiasco

There was no way I was going to be able to force down another fifty cent hamburger.   Even with the squirt of ketchup and swipe of mustard, it was inedible. 

            “Tammy, “ I whispered.  “Do you want my hamburger?” 

            She shook her head and pointed to the hamburger in her hands. 

            “Dad,” my voice trembled, “I’m full.  Can I be done?” 

            “Eat your lunch!  I paid good money for that hamburger.  There are starving kids in Africa who would kill for the food you eat.”

            Sulkily I stared out the window.  I took a sip of the lukewarm orange drink, but it wasn’t enough to wash down the dry hamburger or the warm pickles. 

            My dad rolled down the window and threw out the cone of his ice cream.  I turned and watched it splatter on the pavement behind the car. 

“Dad, you just polluted!  We will get arrested for that!”

            “No, I didn’t.  The birds will eat it.”

            I watched out the back window for the birds, but none appeared before I lost sight of the ice cream cone.

            I turned back to my hamburger.  It hadn’t gotten any smaller yet.  I wondered if birds liked hamburgers.  Too bad there wasn’t a way to get the hamburger outside so the birds could eat it.  I could roll down the window, but my dad would hear the air rushing by and get mad at me for wasting food.  Too bad cars weren’t hollow.  Wait a minute!  I bet the car is hollow on the bottom.  It is just the sides and top that are covered so we don’t get bugs in our car.  I bet there is nothing under the seats.  If I can push my hamburger far enough down in the crack of the seat, it will fall out onto the street behind us and Dad will never see it fall out.  Then the birds can eat it and no one will ever know that I didn’t eat it.  It’s brilliant!

            “Tammy,” I whispered excitedly.  “If we push the hamburgers down into the bottom of the seats as far as we can, they will fall out the back of the car!”

            “Are you sure, Tiff?  I don’t think they will fall on the street.  I think they will get stuck in the seat.”

            “Tammy, you are so dumb!  Of course they fall out the back of the seat to the ground.  How do you think they clean out cars?”

            “Okay, if you’re sure.”

            “I’m sure!”

            We furtively pushed the hamburgers down into the seat as far as we could. 

            “Tammy is so lucky to have me!  What would she do without me to figure all these things out?”

My pride lasted a week or so, until the car began to reek of rotten meat.  No one could figure out where the smell was coming from, until my dad decided to pull the seats out.  Much to my chagrin, there were the remains of a couple of dozen happy meals in various stages of decay.  It turns out cars aren’t hollow, after all. 

Coincidentally, my parents started buying me fish sandwiches when we went to McDonalds.  I never had another fifty cent hamburger again.  It turned out I was as smart as I had always thought I was, after all.