American Federation of Fry Cooks
2313 E. M St. NW
Washington, D.C. 20022

To: Mr. Res Ident

Dear Mr. Ident:

We have had enough. Please help us. Our records indicate that you have purchased and presumably consumed fast foods during the past several years. For this we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Our colleagues are under constant attack from effete politicians, megabuck corporate welfare daddies and vapid commentators from sea to shining sea.

What is the first thing people say when they want to beat somebody up about education, crime, welfare? “Flipping burgers. If we don’t put a billion into satellite links to kindergartens, these kids will wind up flipping burgers. If we don’t put pool halls in the prisons, these guys will return to crime – they don’t want to be flipping burgers. If we don’t elect Bob Heartworm, all the people in the district face a future of flipping burgers.” This in a country that can’t wait for weekends so that people can fire up the grill and flip their own burgers. Go figure. Disrespecting fry cooks is hypocritical, immoral and un-American.

What in the world is wrong with commercial food preparation as a job? Not everybody gets to be the president of a multi-national corporation right out of grade school. We’re a hungry nation on the run. Fry cooks feed millions every day. What’s wrong with that? It’s honest work. It’s necessary work. They don’t have to sign life contracts. All they have to do is show up. And they do. By the tens of thousands every day. It’s enough to make you want to run outside and scream. Go ahead if you want to. This letter can wait.

There. Well, that’s the story. We need your help. The next time you hear or read of someone denigrating this honorable calling, take issue. Or drop us a line. We’ll take issue for you.

Sincerely,

Watson Wallaby
Chief Cook & Bottle Washer

(Best of Boomspeak, September 2017)

Lanny Tonning is a pilot, roustabout, mechanic, bottle washer and co-owner of Old Town Farm and Bike In Coffee, in Old Town, Albuquerque. When he’s not doing all those things he’s 4-wheel driving on roads that are not really roads.

It’s been quite a while since I have done a celebrity interview. I think it was Leo Davinci. Sometimes you can’t ignore a coincidence. Case in point, I ran into Tony Bourdain as I was leaving my local dumpling carry-out place. Coincidence or karma? Who knows? Or doesn’t know?

Tony? Is that you? I bet you miss the biz.

Regret is something you’ve got to just live with, you can’t drink it away. You can’t run away from it. You can’t trick yourself out of it. You’ve just got to own it.

That sounds like classic Tony Bourdain. Everyone misses your take on travel.

As you move through this life…you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life – and travel – leaves marks on you.

Well, you covered a lot of ground with the Parts Unknown show.

If I’m an advocate for anything, it’s to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. The extent to which you can walk in someone else’s shoes or at least eat their food, it’s a plus for everybody. Open your mind, get up off the couch, move.

You wouldn’t believe how many imitators are out there trying to do what you did.

Skills can be taught. Character you either have or you don’t have.

There are so many cooking shows on TV now.

Food is everything we are. It’s an extension of nationalist feeling, ethnic feeling, your personal history, your province, your region, your tribe, your grandma. It’s inseparable from those from the get-go.

What do you look for when choosing where to eat?

I’m excited by any food that’s prepared by someone who’s proud of what they’re doing, who puts a personal imprint on food.

Where you off to next?

It seems that the more places I see and experience, the bigger I realize the world to be. The more I become aware of, the more I realize how relatively little I know of it, how many places I have still to go, how much more there is to learn. Perhaps wisdom, at least for me, means realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go.

Very cool. Any parting advice for us foodies?

Drink heavily with locals whenever possible. 

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. His latest mystery novel, Rio Puerco Demise is available on Amazon. His first mystery novel, Head Above Water, is also available on Amazon. But that’s not all. You can also purchase the Best of BoomSpeak on Amazon.

Kate wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting in this spot. The clangs and whistles of the machine transported her to a familiar hypnotic trance. Her right arm reached for the button as easily as breathing. She watched the numbers roll, not aware of whether she won or loss. When the light dimmed and the rolls ceased, she took her last $20 and slid it into the machine’s mouth. “This is the last one,” she muttered aloud as if trying to convince herself, and the machine, that she had some measure of control.

At that moment an elderly gentleman sat next to her. “I’ve said that before,” he said as he swiveled his chair to face her. “Particularly that machine, it’s a thief.” The woman turned and looked at the gentleman, neatly dressed, a tweed sports jacket, cashmere turtleneck, woolen slacks and designer leather shoes. She suddenly was aware of her own dress, a coffee-stained polyester sweatpants and sweatshirt. She grunted at him. What did he know about financial problems? She turned back to the machine for the next spin, but he persisted. “How much has he taken from you, that bastard? You’re a nice woman, why don’t you go home, use your money to pay off your debts?”

The woman hit the spin button again, trying to block out his smooth voice piercing through her stupor. What money? She was completely broke. She wanted to respond, to tell him to mind his own business, but suddenly he was gone. She hit the spin button again and watched the numbers rolling past her eyeballs until the face, his face, three of them stared back at her from the pay line. Bells and whistles filled the room, everyone looked at her. The numbers began clicking upward, stopping at $20,000. She sat in disbelief. Maybe she could go home now, pay off her credit card. She cashed out her winnings.

As she walked away, she saw the gentleman take a seat next to another woman.

Marcia Szymanski is a poet and fiction writer from Massachusetts. One of her short-short stories was published in Foliate Oak Literary Magazine. Her poems have been published in The Berkshire Review, Bridges: A Jewish Feminist Journal and Verdad Magazine.

“I can’t believe you put me up to this, a getaway driver for your revenge killing,” lamented Benny to his long time, but troubled friend, Rico.

“The ten grand I fronted kept you out of jail. You owe me,” rasped Rico, wearing a sneer accented by a curled upper lip.

Benny turned on the radio in his 2002 Cherry Red, Ford Mustang, and knobbed through to an oldies station that was featuring Casey Kasem’s Top 40 Countdown, the 80’s. The song “Love is a Battlefield” by Pat Benatar was playing.

“Turn that crap off,” snarled Rico while loading a bullet into his revolver.

Benny glanced over, “you’re loading just one bullet?”

“One is all I need,” Rico barked, pointing the gun at the stereo.

“And now, it’s time for our long-distance dedication…” came Casey’s voice over the airwaves.

“Let’s just listen to this, and then I promise, I’ll turn it off,” pleaded Benny. Rico relented with a roll of his eyes.

“This letter is from Eunice from Los Angeles, to her ex-boyfriend, in Flagstaff, Arizona whom she affectionately refers to as Heartthrob.”

“Heartthrob…” giggled Benny.

“Eunice writes, Dear Casey, Heartthrob and I had a good thing, and I felt he was the one until I made the mistake of never introducing him to my cousin Carmine, whom he caught dancing with me at a party. Rico was jealous with rage and stormed off, vowing to get revenge.”

Casey’s narration had Rico sniffling and shielding his face from Benny as he loosened his grip on his gun.

“I think of Heartthrob every day, and I dream of reuniting with him. Casey, can you please play “Baby Come Back” by Player? I need him to know I was wrong, and I just can’t live without him. Well, Eunice, here’s your long-distance dedication.”

The song started playing, and Rico was wiping away tears from with his sleeve.

“Take me to LA. I’m getting Eunice back,” Rico commanded as the song ended.

“Good call. Aren’t you glad we heard the long-distance dedication?” Benny sang.

Rico didn’t answer, just peered out the passenger window at the gray skies that matched his mood. The countdown rolled on as Rico eye balled Benny to shut off the radio, only to be replied to with a comical laugh. Rico gritted his teeth, pointed the gun at the stereo, and pulled the trigger.

Read more by Jon Moray at moraywrites.com