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100 Words: Duck Burger
Sep. 2nd, 2013 01:39 pmMirrored from Words, words, words, art..
Doyle leaned against the counter and wiped his forehead on his arm, which didn’t help because his forehead was wet with sweat and his arm was wet with sweat, so nothing got absorbed. It just got moved around. Redistributed. Kory tossed him a paper towel and he dabbed at himself while Alma busied herself with drinking Gatorade.
“So I guess we’re done for now. Everything’s moved in, the bed’s set up, boxes are all in their right rooms… wanna get a pizza?”
“Pizza gives me heartburn,” Kory put in.
“What? No. What are you, an old man?”
Kory laughed, shaking his head. “It’s the tomato sauce, man! I guess I could get a white pizza or something…” he leaned over and opened the fridge, taking out a coke. He held it against the back of his neck for a moment before popping it open and taking a drink, then held it against his forehead. “We could go to Duck Burger.”
“Ah, no!” Doyle laughed, shaking his head.
“Duck Burger?” Alma looked up, curious. “What’s that?”
Doyle held up a hand.
“It’s just a burger place, nothing special.”
“But why’s it called Duck Burger? Is that just like… a family name or nickname? Do they use duck fat for the fries or something?”
Kory started laughing so hard he almost dropped his soda.
“No… no! It’s just… it’s just burgers and fries. Just a burger place. It’s not even really called Duck Burger, that’s just like a joke name Kory calls it. It’s really called McNally’s on account of it’s owned by a dude named Jim McNally.”
“Well, are they like… shitty burgers?”
“Nah, well, not shitty. They’re ok.”
“I could really go for a burger, actually.”
Kory started laughing again.
“What? What’s so funny, Kor?”
“Don’t even ask him. He’s twelve. Y’hear that, Kory? You’re immature!”
Kory wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Whew. Well. Let’s clean up and go. They keep the air on real low, it’s nice there when it’s hot.”
The three of them cleaned up, and went to Duck Burger. As Kory said, the air was real low. The cool air felt good after a long day of lugging furniture and boxes and cleaning. The burgers were good, the fries a little mushy, the cole slaw fantastic. They lingered a bit over cake and coffee, tired to the bone, overly full, not ready to move yet. And then they got up, paid, and parted ways. Kory went home and Doyle and Alma headed back to their new place. They watched a little tv while unpacking a few boxes, and then turned in to bed. As they lay there, cuddled up between clean sheets, getting used to the new space and its shadows, Alma felt a pressure in her lower abdomen.
And then she heard it.
Quaaaaaack.
Quaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.
“Scuse,” said Doyle.
And then she smelled it.
“JESUS GOD,” she said, clapping a hand over her nose, and Doyle started laughing and then she started laughing and then it was her turn to fart, long and sustained.
Quaaaaaaaaaaack.
“Oh Goddddd I get it now. You guys are so nasty!”
“Hey, it could be worse,” he said. “We could call it–”
“Don’t say Fart Burger. Don’t. Do not.”
He started laughing again, and she did too, comfortable together.
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