The following is a reformatted excerpt from a script I’ve been working on-
The smell of grease-soaked meat reeks throughout the joint. Standing in line at Brochacho’s Burgers are two young, adult men. Jim, a suave, although maybe sometimes boisterous, young man stared at the menu on the wall. Next to him, staring at the same menu but not actually reading it, was Lliam; a more modest and shy personality that is evident in his attire.
“What’re you getting?” Jim asked while still perusing the menu.
“Probably just a burger,” Lliam answered. He elongated his enunciation of ‘probably’ to give off the impression that he was, actually, considering other options.
“No fries?” Jim inquired, sounding mildly shocked with a hint of disappointment.
“Nah, not a fan,” Lliam said, hoping to conclude his preference investigation.
Jim subtly shakes his head in disapproval. After another few seconds of examining the menu, Jim leans onto the raised counter. The cashier pauses after Jim puts his elbow on the countertop, showing slight annoyance. After the brief pause, the cashier asks his routine, “What can I get for you today?”
“I’ll take one of your double Brochacho burgers with everything, medium fry, and a drink,” Jim recounts.
“Double burger, medium fry and drink. Anything else?” repeats the cashier.
“Nope, that’s all. I’m paying for this guy, too,” Jim says while gesturing to Lliam. Jim backs away from the counter while Lliam, who is caught off guard by the kind gesture, walks up to the counter. The cashier takes a half-step closer to the counter now that Jim’s elbow is no longer resting there. His annoyance, however, has not receded.
“I’ll just take a burger, plain,” Lliam says.
“Do you want cheese on that? Or some fries?” the cashier asks.
“No, just a plain burger and a medium drink. Thanks,” Lliam reassures. He backs away from the counter as Jim walks back up to pay for their order. Afterwards, they find a table in the middle of the dining room to wait on their food. They sit across from each other, remaining quiet for a moment until Jim makes conversation.
“This place seems a little weird, don’t you think?” Jim asks, trying to break the silence.
“How so?” Lliam asks back, not picking up on the conversation-started Jim was trying to evoke.
“I don’t know; the guy up front, the location of this place… just, everything. You don’t see it?” Jim asks again.
“Eh, it’s a little different I guess. But a burger’s a burger,” Lliam answers, ending his sentence with what has never been, and will never be, a cliché.
“Speaking of weird….” Jim pauses as their food is delivered to their table. They both thank the deliverer and claim their food. As they begin to eat, Jim continues. “No cheese, no fries, nothing? Not much of a meal, is it?”
“I’m just a little plain I guess,” Lliam responds while taking a bite out of his burger. “I don’t like all the toppings they put on burgers. And fries just taste greasy to me. I’d still call it a meal though, it fills me up.”
Lliam takes another bite of his sandwich while Jim continues to chew on his. Lliam stares blankly down at the table, trying again to avoid another exploration of his likes and dislikes. Jim looks slightly off to the right of Lliam, deep in thought. They continue eating quietly until Jim chimes in.
“How many food groups on the Food Pyramid does an item need to have in order to be considered a meal instead of a snack?”
Lliam chews for a moment before answering back, “I think it depends more on the amount you eat.”
“Sometimes I eat more ice cream for a snack than I eat food for supper,” Jim replies, still chewing. “I can eat more chips, or more wings, during a football game than I do at supper, but people still call that a snack. It’s the lack of variety.”
Lliam, mouth full of hamburger, shrugs. He does this in order not to elicit a response, or perhaps because he has suddenly become aware of his manners; don’t speak with food in your mouth. Jim glares back at Lliam, waiting for a retort, but it doesn’t come.
“The bun,” Jim goes on, while lifting the bun off the top of his burger, “that’s in the grains category. Then you have the hamburger meat,” he says, but quickly realizes he cannot easily pick it off his burger for exhibition. Instead, he sticks out his tongue with chewed meat on it. He puts his tongue and food back into his mouth to swallow before continuing. “The cheese is dairy,” Jim holds up every piece to eye-level when saying it. “The lettuce and tomato are vegetables. The fries are-“
Lliam cuts him off, “Tomatoes are a fruit.”
“Even better!” Jim exclaims before going on. “The lettuce is my vegetable, the tomato is my fruit! My burger has five of the six food groups! And the fries, with all this salt….” Jim pauses to grab a fry, dramatically rubs it around in pile of salt on his tray, and then uses it to scoop as much ketchup onto the fry as possible. He then leans forward over the table, closer to Lliam (who has a very confused expression on his face), before sticking the fry into his mouth. “That’s the top of the pyramid.”