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Rant #400
(published September 18, 2008)
Big Mac Rant
by Nancy Aldersmith
Typical man—he has to back in.
Why does he have to park here, next to me?
There isn't even a spot there!
That's why I'm here. I wanted the end spot.
He grinds his back bumper into the dirty snow bank,
Kills the engine.

Now we are directly across from each other—
my face staring at his bald head
through the car window.
I just wanted to eat my Big Mac here,
in peace.
I just wanted to take huge bites,
chew with my mouth open and
let the secret sauce slide
recklessly down my chin.
Can't I just enjoy one quiet moment to myself?

There he sits, interrupting my private thoughts.
Thoughts like,
why do they give you a fist full of catsups when
two packets would be enough?
And, I have always wondered what that extra piece of bread
is doing in the middle of a Big Mac.
Sometimes I remove that bread—
But not tonight.
No, this is my night.

My briefcase is a tray for the Big Mac carton,
The fries stay in the bag.
Shake the bag to cover the fries with salt—
take a sip of the fountain Coke,
heavy with carbonation.

What is he doing?
This guy—
Who is he waiting for?
Is he a stalker?
He starts his car again.
He looks at me,
sees me frantically writing something down,
Hope he doesn't have a gun.
I bet he wonders what I'm writing.
Wouldn't he like to know?
I take the last bite.

Time to go.

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