cheap dinner

Yesterday I waited 53 minutes for a $2.75 cent hamburger. Upon consumption, it tasted like a $2.75 hamburger. Its beef was of frozen preservation and bun of the same variety. And although the restaurant offered pickles and raw onion, I put pictures of lettuce, tomato, bacon, mayonnaise and all that make a burger sinful on milk cartons. I couldn't find the missing children anywhere.

So that night as I snored, I dreamed about $2.75 hamburgers and making my own... with steamed buns to soak up burger grease, broiled cheese and sauteed onion stacked in just the right order with lettuce below burger below tomato. I'd own a restaurant with satisfied guests, full bellies and no mind for fat grams and caloric intake. I'd be great. My stomach would never grumble and my pocketbook n'er would empty. Diners at my restaurant would polish off their burgers de heaven with a chocolate milkshake and never gain a pound.

A person can believe anything during a REM cycle.

So in my dream, I offered a trial version my masterpiece to Kyle J., who removed the bun of perfect texture, sliced the beef with a plastic fork and refused to eat it further. Not good enough, she said. And I don't like carbs.

And then I woke up, disappointed.

My nocturnal dreams of winning the gold medal in the Iron Chef contest are now crushed. My commercial kitchen aspirations over. 

But at least Kyle J. revealed my stronger soul and some spare cash. Maybe today I'll upgrade to the dollar-menu.