I decided to go to Burger King for the last meal. It was one of those decisions that once implanted in your head, was difficult to expunge. I made the decision on the bus journey on the way into town, not that there was any rush; the way it was, there was all the time in the world. The day would be endless and finite all at the same time. Besides, Burger King was just there and I was hungry. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed quite fitting. I wasn’t sure how. I wasn’t sure of much, anymore. I decided the reason for choosing was in essence, meaningless and decided not to ponder it further. I decided that was fitting, also. I decided that I was enjoying the word ‘expunge’. I decided to go to Burger King.
The milkshake machine was broken, but I didn’t cause a fuss. Being escorted from the premises would mean the potential ruin of my day. Being escorted from the premises would mean the potential discovery of the medicines, placed nonchalantly in my bag. There would be nothing exceptional about them, were there not so many. I settled for a Coke. A Coke, instead of a Diet Coke. As a treat. The table behind me compromised of the company of two young mothers, and two babies. One mother said to one of the babies, ‘Eat that fucking chicken’. I presumed it was hers. I decided the meaning of words was evident when we didn’t know the words. Irony is detectable in screaming, ‘Please’ or whispering, ‘I love you’. Didn’t like to think that humans were like dogs, taking meaning from tone. Liked to feel greater than dogs. I had a dog once, but it died. Decided that it didn’t matter anyway, decided that we all turned back to dust.
My Grandma took me to Burger King once when I was little, and I remember being in the toilets with her and her being mad and kicking the flush button to make it work. She was always a bit mad. I wondered if I’d see Grandma in Heaven. Wondered if there was a Heaven.