The Staple

Though I am not the protagonist of this story, (Jesse is) I was there with him at the time that this tale took place. With his permission, I have taken the liberty of recounting his experience from his own eyes. Therefore, the narrator from this point forward refer to Jesse.

There was nowhere else to eat on a Sunday night besides more tourist-friendly chains since traditional British pubs were closed early. Khalil and I walked by Ultimate Burger once already that night, but ignored it since we ate there on our first night in England. Khalil insisted on trying new things, but all I really wanted was another good bacon cheeseburger, so I convinced him to try Ultimate Burger again (since it was a sure thing. I reminded him of the large menu and with little resistance, he caved in. It was nice to eat at a more familiar and American-like as to the dark and foreign pubs.

I stuck with the old favorite – a bacon cheeseburger – despite the wide selection of sandwiches ranging from intricately topped beef burgers to no-less than three kinds of lamb burgers. Khalil got onion rings and a peanut-satay burger. Good thing Kim wasn’t around – I like my girlfriend and everything, but she just cant handle the peanuts well…

The meal was eaten in our typical way – we ate, talked, but I did deviate from my usual beverage of the free distilled tap water and ordered a Sprite. I was almost done with my burger, about two bites worth away, and I stopped chewing. Khalil was droning on and on about God knows what (probably art) and I instantly tuned him out and focused inward, concentrating on the bite in my mouth.

Something was wrong. There was a different feeling in my mouth from the previous bites. I felt a slight pinch, something hard amidst the ground beef and cheddar cheese and English bacon (trust me, its not like American bacon). Was that pinching sensation a fluke? I explored my mouth and felt it again. I began to isolate and separate what seemed to be the problem from the rest of my food. I felt my eyes glaze over and was vaguely aware that Khalil stopped talking and was probably watching me, watiging for an explanation for my detached stare. Careful not to swallow anything, I reached inside my mouth to pull out a surprisingly long, thin piece of what looked like metal. I looked around for anything that could have broken off into my food but found nothing.

Khalil was staring with a look of growing concern as If he were imagining the possible journey the mystery metal could have taken. We both lightened up after a while – because I had caught it in time and was perfectly fine. We decided that it was a metal staple from the slightly bent middle and pinched endpoint. The waitress eventually came over to ask how our food was, and I had to respond. I simply informed her of my stapled-food and she said I wouldn’t have to pay for my burger as she walked away. In her absense, I asked Khalil if that meant I still had to pay for my Sprite – and he said probably not, since there were no staples in there.

We began our scenario game, trying to figure out exactly what happened for this staple to find its way into my mouth. Maybe the chef kept his office supplies close to the grill and was flamboyantly flipping his burgers when he knocked the jar of loose staples into the meat. Maybe the chef was seasoning the burgers and has a salt shaker, pepper shaker, and then a staple shaker. Maybe he wasn’t a real chef at all- and maybe he was just some guy who cooks on a George Foreman grill at his desk job.

Oh well. I figure I’m okay now, and since then I have had several staple-free meals.