Walgreens Times Square, 6:00pm, January 22nd: woman in back, on phone: "Zach is right. They do look scary up close. There are a couple options. Should I get the double cheeseburger bulkie? What does bulkie mean? I thought it said bulgogi at first, but I was sorely mistaken. I will not get the steak and cheese; that looks too vile."
Dear Jesus, if I die, please don't hold my early 20s against me.
Now on line, thinking: "Oh, Immodium, I should probably get that too. They should sell the Immodium with the food, to make it easier on people. We're New Yorkers; we want to get the hell out of Times Square ASAP."
The burger to bun ratio is a bit off
At home, talking to nephew: "I need to write a death note because what I'm about to eat may kill me. I love you." "Why would you want to eat something that will kill you?" "Well it probably won't. I'll most likely just get violently ill." "What's that mean?" "You don't want to know."
Apply heat, kill bacteria
Warming up, the "burger": "I'm going to need a chaser. I can't think of a better reason to dip into my Blue Label. It will kill the germs."
If anyone can save me, it would be Johnnie.
Cutting a piece off: "I can't take more than one bite. I just can't."
Once. More than enough.
Holding back the dry heaves: "Hmm, it sort of tastes like the burger from Zen Burger. Faux meat is so weird. Pretty disgusting, no more than Danku."