Turkey Burger

C/W: Profanity

Hamburger 

Cheeseburger 

California Burger 

California Cheeseburger 

Turkey Cheeseburger

Veggie Burger

There should be a Turkey Burger and a Veggie Cheeseburger. 

“Why don’t you think they listed a regular Turkey Burger?” 

Eddie doesn’t look up from his menu. 

“I don’t know, man. I’m sure they could make you a turkey burger without cheese.”

“That’s not the point. Why are they listing California Burger and California Cheeseburger but not Turkey Burger and Turkey Cheeseburger? It’s inconsistent.” 

“Just figure out what you want.” 

He closes his eyes like he’s mustering every last ounce of patience he has just to engage with me. We’ve been on the road for 36 hours straight and we’re in Amarillo. He’s sensitive to sounds and smells and he probably has a migraine. Amarillo smells like cow shit, but not like a one-off patty might smell if you were standing near a cow and they let one go. Amarillo smells like 2000 cows all shit at the same time and then walked through it, and the reason it smells like that is because that’s exactly what’s going on. The smell could burn your nose hairs right off, if you still have them.

I have two consolations for this whole situation right now. One: All that cattle out there means the burger I’m about to get is going to be fresh-fresh. They shouldn’t even have turkey burgers on the menu with all those cows around. Technically they don’t have turkey burgers on the menu, I remember, and I don’t know why but that is setting me off. I can’t explain it, it just gives me a bad feeling about this diner. I’m fairly certain it’s an omen. I look around at the windows. It feels like the cops are going to come in any minute and-

“What can I get you boys this evening?”

“I’ll do a BLT and a coffee,” Eddie says. 

“I’ll do a cheeseburger. Hey, why don’t you guys list just a regular turkey burger on the menu?”

“Man, just drop it.” 

He thinks I’m trying to be an ass but I’m not. Maybe if I know why it’s not on the menu the bad feeling will go away. 

“Oh, is that what you want? A turkey burger?” the waitress asks. 

I should have known this would cause confusion but foresight tends to decline after 36 hours of skiing. 

“No, no, I want a beef burger. I just noticed tha-”

“Jesus Christ, can you stop?” 

Eddie turns to the waitress. 

“He’ll also take a coffee and we’ll both do waters. Thanks.” 

“Coming right up,” she says. 

She gives Eddie a nod and smiles at me like I’m a child. I notice that she has makeup on and did her hair, which is an old school move for a waitress. She looks like she was cute when she was younger, and even though she’s not cute anymore, knowing that she used to be could get me off if I were in the right mood. I don’t think I could get hard right now even if J.Lo came and sat on my lap, though. Again, that’s what 36 hours on the slopes will do to you.

Speaking of skiing, consolation number two is that now that I placed my order, I can go do a line in the bathroom and stop feeling like garbage. 

“I’m gonna go take a bump, be right back.” 

Eddie nods, barely. When I get into the bathroom and into a stall, I pull the plastic bag and a key out of my pocket. I try to break up the chunks with my fingers. I prefer lines but a few key bumps are all I can swing in this diner bathroom. Scoop. Sniff. Scoop. Sniff. One more. Scoop. Sniff.  

A minute goes by and then I stand up. I feel fucking great now. The fluorescent lights in the bathroom are the same ones that are in every dive bar and for a second I trick myself into thinking I’m back in Augusta on Thanksgiving Eve, the night when everyone comes back into town and hits the bars like there's no tomorrow. Good times. 

I go back and sit down across from Eddie. He looks at me and nods his chin. He wants some. I pass him the plastic bag under the table and he pockets it. Without a word he gets up and walks to the bathroom. Just when I start settling in and feeling good thinking about this move to LA, I hear the bell on the diner door jingle behind me. I don’t normally sit with my back to a door but my mind wasn’t working when we first sat down. I move over to Eddie’s side. He won’t care. 

I don’t like the look of the people who walk in. It’s a family of four and the mom looks like the type who would call my mom if she knew I was here. I feel like I’m about to get in trouble. If one of them looks over here, they’re going to be onto me and it’s likely that they’ll call the cops. I check the windows to see if they already did. Shit. I can tell this was a bad place to stop. 

When Eddie returns I level with him.

“Eddie, man, we gotta go. This place is no good.”

“We just ordered. We can’t leave now.”

He doesn't get it and it kind of pisses me off that he’s not picking up on the things I’m picking up on. Makes me wonder if he’s reliable. 

“See that blue car out there?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s something going on with that car. It doesn’t belong to anyone in here. I’ve watched everyone come in or leave and that car hasn’t been involved.”

“It’s probably the waitress’s car,” he says. "Or the cook's."

I really have to spell out everything for this guy.

“It’s parked close to the door. Employees are never allowed to park close to the door. I’m telling you, something’s not right.”

“Will you cut it out with your jaw? It’s making mine hurt just looking at you.”

He's talking about the clenching but I can’t help it. The second I stop thinking about it it just starts up again. It doesn’t happen to Eddie, but not because he doesn’t do mountains of blow. He’s as bad as me, we just react differently. We’re all snowflakes. 

The waitress walks up with our food. When did she bring us our drinks? She sets our plates down and manages to put the right food in front of the right person even though I switched seats. 

“Alright, here you gentlemen go. One BLT and one cheeseburger. Can I get you anything else?”

Eddie looks up and smiles at her. I notice that he looks crazed since he came back.

“No, we’re all set. Thanks.”

I can’t smell the food. I can see that it’s hot but I can’t smell it. That’s partially my fault, given what went down in the bathroom, but still. This isn’t right. I take the bun off and put my nose up to the patty and inhale. It smells weird, but at least I can smell it. I sit back, and right before I mention the smell to Eddie I notice the pale color. The patty is not brown or pink. It’s tan. Tan. 

All of a sudden it feels like I’m against a wall and an enormous airbag is being inflated and it's covering my mouth and cracking my sternum. The breath is getting squeezed out of me.

I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Eddie asks me.

I realize that if he hasn’t caught on by now he’s not going to. It’s too complicated and there are too many moving parts, so I yell the only thing I can think of, the only thing that's going through my head:

“IT’S A FUCKING TURKEY BURGER!!”