Faster Food

Lauren and Silvia shuffle up to the counter, Silvia elbowing
Lauren's side until Lauren rattles out their order. The doughboy's
hands play across the keypad, picking out the subtle variations in
toppings and up sells. Lauren winks at Silvia and burps loudly. Silvia
giggles. But the doughboy doesn't react. He stabs the total button,
repeats their order back to them perfectly and holds out his palm.
Lauren trickles her coins in and pulls her lip. Silvia giggles, stares
at the floor. Yet again, they've failed to beat the doughboy. That's
the deal - beat the doughboy, get a free meal. But nobody ever has. The
doughboy winks at Lauren.
'Maybe tomorrow ladies,' he says and draws another line on his slate.
Two hundred and thirty-six chalk marks this week. He admires his
scorecard, wiping his fingers where the side of his smock gapes open.
'I'm going to get these hands insured. Well, what do you think of
that?'
He holds his fingers up so the harsh neon light shines through. They
look like uncooked sausages, fat and greasy, blue insulating tape
around the tips.
The girls stare at each other.
'You could insure each digit individually,' says Lauren deadpan. 'If
you were down on your luck you could pop one into the peeler and pay
off your overdraft.'
'Yeah,' giggles Silvia, 'just up to the knuckle so you can still work
the till.'
'I couldn't do that in company time. They don't like employees to have
accidents. I'd have to be helping my brother with his car or
something.'
Silvia looks at Lauren with a can't-keep-it-in grin. 'Maybe we could
come and watch.'
The doughboy's eyes flicker into life.
'You'd come see me take my finger off?'
'It would have to be an important one. Your index finger or your
thumb.'
'Hey now, I'm not so sure about the thumb.' He turns to collect their
order.
'We'd bring liquor to numb the pain and clean the wound.'
'We could all drink some of it later.'
The doughboy pauses mid turn. 'Hey, I could set-up my cousin's cine
camera.'
Laura takes out her lipstick and writes a phone number onto the
counter. 'You give us a call when you're all ready now. Be sure to
leave a message.'
'I will, ladies, sure I will.' He hands over their trays.

The girls run for a booth in the back, hidden by a plastic palm tree.
They squirm around the plastic seats, doubling up and banging the bench
when they can't breathe. Tears roll down Lauren's cheeks. Words fall
between her gasps.
'The number, the number,' she shakes, 'head office!'
'Can you imagine when he rings? When they get a message about chopping
fingers off?'
'Oh my god, Silvia. This is the funniest thing.' She squeezes her
burger out, flips open the bun and scoops the toppings onto the table.
'Nobody beats the doughboy.'
Silvia snaps her fries in half and builds a fortress on her tray. 'Did
you see the way he looked at you? His eyeballs nearly popped out.' She
grabs Lauren's wrist. 'He'd cut off his finger for you. What sort of
love is that?'
Lauren wipes her fingers with a napkin. 'This food is rubbish. Why do
we come here every night?'
'You think he's got a wife?'
'He's got two stars. Would you marry a two-star man?' Lauren presses
down the lid of her drink to make it diet and sucks through two
straws.
'I want to date him Lauren.'
Lauren stops, drags her teeth up the straw until she can see Silvia's
eyes. She studies her pupils, looking for a sign. Silvia blinks. Lauren
explodes, sending a jet into the drink, blowing off the lid.
'Oh God, Sil, you had me then.'
But Silvia sits quietly, lips shaking, cheeks reddening.
'No Silvia, don't do this on me. That doughboy must be forty. He's
never had a girlfriend. He must weigh a hundred and fifty
pounds.'
Silvia's eyes have turned to water, like the time Lauren's mum caught
them with her fags. Her mouth hangs open and a dribble of snot creeps
from her left nostril. She rocks on the round edge of seat.
'It's easy for you Lauren,' she whispers, 'you don't know what it's
like for me.' Then she picks up her bag, and her coat and walks out the
door with her face pressed against her coat, so he can't see.

---This is work in progress. Please email or vote if you want me to
finish this story ---