tall burgers on their hats
swaying and jiggling all over the place.
“Welcome to Buddy McSlawburger’s,” Jason said
to his first customer, a hefty tattooed biker couple. “Would you
like a Slawburger Special today?”
“No!” the fat, bearded biker guy said. “I
want two of them cheeseburgers, but none of that slaw junk. I hate
that stuff. What do you want, baby?”
“A hot dog,” the woman said. “ No slaw.
Got that? No slaw.”
“Two slawburgers with cheese, hold the slaw,”
Jason said into the microphone. “One slawdog, hold the slaw.”
“And I want some fries,” the biker guy added.
“But none of that canned chili junk on it.”
“One chili-cheese fry, hold the
chili-cheese,” Jason said.
Jason’s next customer was his math teacher,
Coach Bauer.
“Hey there, kiddo,” the Coach said. “Kiddo”
was his generic name for any student who didn’t participate in
sports or cheerleading. “Double cheeseburger. None of the slaw, I
hate that stuff.”
“Double slawburger with cheese, hold the
slaw,” Jason said into the mike. It was already turning into a long
night.
A group of four sophomores came to his
register next, two boys and two girls. They’d been among those
pointing and smiling about him. Jason sighed. As if his day weren’t
bad enough, now he was about to get ridiculed by younger kids.
“Hi, Jason!” one girl said, waving. Jason had
no idea what her name was.
“Uh, hi,” Jason said. “Welcome to
McSlawburger’s.”
“I told you it was him,” one of the guys
said.
“You’re even cuter than in the video!” the
other girl said. The guy next to her scowled a little.
“Video?” Jason asked.
“We watched it like twenty times!” the first
girl said. The two girls leaned together, held up their index
fingers like microphones, and sang a verse of Erin’s “Cinderella
Night” in screeching, off-key voices:
Cinderella, Cinderella beware,
Don’t give yourself up on a dare…
“Would you budge along?” a crabby-looking
older man in a plaid shirt said behind them. “Some of us are trying
to order food here.”
“What video?” Jason asked.
“I told you it wasn’t him,” the scowling boy
said.
“It is!” the scowling boy’s girlfriend said.
“You play the guitar, right?”
“Yeah,” Jason said. Both the girls squealed.
It was so unexpected that he jumped a little. “So, can I take your
order?” he asked.
“When are you putting out another video?” the
first girl asked.
“Where’s your next concert?” the non-scowling
boy asked. “We’ll totally come.”
“I don’t know…” Jason said.
“Does your band have a Facebook page?” the
boy asked.
“A MySpace?” the second girl asked.
“Not really. How do you know about my band,
again?” Jason asked.
“Nobody cares about your band!” barked the
man in plaid.
“Sorry, I have to work,” Jason said.
“Why are you working here when you can
play like that?” the first girl asked.
“Hurry it up!” the plaid-jacket man
shouted.
“Do you guys just want slawburgers?” Jason
asked the four kids.
“No slaw,” the first girl said, and the
others hurried to agree.
“Four slawburgers, no slaw,” Jason said into
the microphone.
The second girl grabbed a napkin and wrote on
it. “I’m Wendy,” she said. “Call me when you’re playing somewhere.
Or just, you know, if you want to talk. About anything.” She handed
him the napkin, which had her phone number and email address under
the McSlawburger’s logo. The boy who was with her scowled even
more.
“I’d better give him my phone number, too.”
The second girl jotted it down on another napkin and handed it to
Jason. “Just in case there’s a concert,” she explained to her
boyfriend.
“You can pick up your burgers at the end of
the counter,” Jason said. He didn’t know what to do with the
napkins, so he stuffed them in his pocket.
“Bye, Jason!” the two girls said as they
walked to the pick-up area.
swaying and jiggling all over the place.
“Welcome to Buddy McSlawburger’s,” Jason said
to his first customer, a hefty tattooed biker couple. “Would you
like a Slawburger Special today?”
“No!” the fat, bearded biker guy said. “I
want two of them cheeseburgers, but none of that slaw junk. I hate
that stuff. What do you want, baby?”
“A hot dog,” the woman said. “ No slaw.
Got that? No slaw.”
“Two slawburgers with cheese, hold the slaw,”
Jason said into the microphone. “One slawdog, hold the slaw.”
“And I want some fries,” the biker guy added.
“But none of that canned chili junk on it.”
“One chili-cheese fry, hold the
chili-cheese,” Jason said.
Jason’s next customer was his math teacher,
Coach Bauer.
“Hey there, kiddo,” the Coach said. “Kiddo”
was his generic name for any student who didn’t participate in
sports or cheerleading. “Double cheeseburger. None of the slaw, I
hate that stuff.”
“Double slawburger with cheese, hold the
slaw,” Jason said into the mike. It was already turning into a long
night.
A group of four sophomores came to his
register next, two boys and two girls. They’d been among those
pointing and smiling about him. Jason sighed. As if his day weren’t
bad enough, now he was about to get ridiculed by younger kids.
“Hi, Jason!” one girl said, waving. Jason had
no idea what her name was.
“Uh, hi,” Jason said. “Welcome to
McSlawburger’s.”
“I told you it was him,” one of the guys
said.
“You’re even cuter than in the video!” the
other girl said. The guy next to her scowled a little.
“Video?” Jason asked.
“We watched it like twenty times!” the first
girl said. The two girls leaned together, held up their index
fingers like microphones, and sang a verse of Erin’s “Cinderella
Night” in screeching, off-key voices:
Cinderella, Cinderella beware,
Don’t give yourself up on a dare…
“Would you budge along?” a crabby-looking
older man in a plaid shirt said behind them. “Some of us are trying
to order food here.”
“What video?” Jason asked.
“I told you it wasn’t him,” the scowling boy
said.
“It is!” the scowling boy’s girlfriend said.
“You play the guitar, right?”
“Yeah,” Jason said. Both the girls squealed.
It was so unexpected that he jumped a little. “So, can I take your
order?” he asked.
“When are you putting out another video?” the
first girl asked.
“Where’s your next concert?” the non-scowling
boy asked. “We’ll totally come.”
“I don’t know…” Jason said.
“Does your band have a Facebook page?” the
boy asked.
“A MySpace?” the second girl asked.
“Not really. How do you know about my band,
again?” Jason asked.
“Nobody cares about your band!” barked the
man in plaid.
“Sorry, I have to work,” Jason said.
“Why are you working here when you can
play like that?” the first girl asked.
“Hurry it up!” the plaid-jacket man
shouted.
“Do you guys just want slawburgers?” Jason
asked the four kids.
“No slaw,” the first girl said, and the
others hurried to agree.
“Four slawburgers, no slaw,” Jason said into
the microphone.
The second girl grabbed a napkin and wrote on
it. “I’m Wendy,” she said. “Call me when you’re playing somewhere.
Or just, you know, if you want to talk. About anything.” She handed
him the napkin, which had her phone number and email address under
the McSlawburger’s logo. The boy who was with her scowled even
more.
“I’d better give him my phone number, too.”
The second girl jotted it down on another napkin and handed it to
Jason. “Just in case there’s a concert,” she explained to her
boyfriend.
“You can pick up your burgers at the end of
the counter,” Jason said. He didn’t know what to do with the
napkins, so he stuffed them in his pocket.
“Bye, Jason!” the two girls said as they
walked to the pick-up area.
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