I looked down at the menu in mute shock.
Ramen Burger …………………….. $9.50
If you’ll just call it what it is – a noodle burger – the very fact that this thing was on the menu was enough to make me forget the flat lemonade getting warm in front of me, made me forget why I was even in the Quantum Strings Mall with Yool, the sanity-drainingly buff Christmas tree who has been here the whole time, in the first place.
This was a noodle burger.
Now, see, I make noodle burgers at home. I’m really quite good at them, although Creepy will have a minor quibble with the terminology I have just used, and would prefer I said “I’m a war criminal in the kitchen, with noodles.” Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.
What you do is, you cook noodles. Then you cut open a bread roll, put tomatoes on one side and mayonnaise on the other, and then you put your noodles in a bowl and take the whole lot over to the couch and start watching television. The television is an important part of this meal. I would recommend a book, but you can’t really read a book while eating a noodle burger. Unlike a Whopper, a noodle burger requires both hands.
Then you fork in as much noodle as you can safely contain in the roll, and you squeeze it shut. And then you eat it, and congratulate yourself on making such a delicious snack.
I honestly don’t see what the big deal is.
I was still staring at the menu, not really seeing it, lost in a mildly-rapturous reverie about the public acceptance and mainstreaming of the noodle burger and how outraged Creepy was going to be when I told him about it, when the waitress showed up to take my order.