Home of the Whopper

Burger King, Laredo Texas//10:30am//Air Conditioned:

I suggested we use the drive thru because we were behind schedule. My partner suggested we dine in so that we could chill out a bit, enjoy a shitty meal, and get our story straight.

OK, what’s our story?

Well for starters, he demanded that I keep my mouth shut at all times. He didn’t care what shirt I wore. He didn’t care if I kept my sunglasses on. He didn’t care that I hadn’t shaved in weeks. He didn’t care about anything I thought was worth caring about. Just keep your mouth buckled he kept saying.

Yeah but…..
Shut it!
But what if..???  
How are we gonna..???
Zip it!
“Look Pollo, please just let me do the talking. Trust me this one time.  Just be sure to have the paperwork ready. Pretend you can’t talk. Pretend you can’t hear either. The ONLY thing you need to do is be sure to have the paperwork together the exact moment I ask for it. Got it?”


My partner wasn’t really referring to paperwork, so much as the work that had gone into this one piece of paper that suggested that the two beastly sporting-good items inside the van, and the seven monster sporting-good items on top of the van were worth a teency weency portion of their true value.

OK, but what about the rest of the items inside the..??
Calmate Cabron!
Are you sure that I shouldn’t…??
Trust me!
Don’t you think we should pretend..??
I’m not going to say it again Pollo, shut the beak!
I sat quietly in a plastic booth. I wanted to talk so badly, but my partner wouldn’t have it.  I just sat there and sipped shitty black coffee.  I can’t remember ever seeing my partner so serious.   
We went outside. It was hot. I found the folder that carried the ‘piece of paper’. I specifically remember taking out the piece of paper and repositioning it inside my backpack full of technology.
It was 11:10am on Sunday Morning.
Labor Day Weekend.