I ate a burger at the Bistro

One of the wonderful things about life is that you never know what’s lying in wait for you around the corner. It could be good. It could be bad.

It could be legendary.

You wake up in the morning and you think it’s going to be another ordinary day. You think nothing special is going to happen. You bathe, you dress up, you go to work, or (if you’re unemployed) you start emailing that CV.

It was on just such an ordinary day that I ate a burger at the Bistro.

When two friends of mine casually said, ‘Hey, let’s go to the Bistro in Kisementi, and have their Monday burger’, I did not reflect too deeply about it. How was I know what was about to happen?

How was I to know I was going to be introduced to taste buds I never knew I had?

We sat down, and I ordered a beef burger. It arrived, looking like any other burger. Deceptive bugger (pun intended). I held it in my hands and my fingers sank aaaaallll the way into it. I then took a bite.

Holycrapbloody. I proceeded to turn into a pig. On the spot.

All the sensations! All the tastiness! All the meat! All the-you get the point.

I laughed and I smiled and I moaned and I groaned in pleasure as that burger and I confabulated, baby. I took turns between biting at the burger and licking and sucking the juices off my fingers. I was not going to allow a morsel of that cow to go to waste.

I noticed there was a strange silence on the table. I looked up and my two friends were staring at me.

“Thish sho gooooood!” I explained, my mouth full. And then I went back to it. Too quickly, it was over.

Oh, alright, chips. I’ll eat you too.