If I were a journalist

As I sat on the bar stool, eating my burger in New Zealand’s renowned burger joint “Burger Fuel”, I watched a curious spectacle.

As I munched away on my flamed chicken burger (delicious, by the way), I watched through the window as a man in a blue t-shirt with a long greasy ponytail ate a solitary lunch at the table outside. Distracted by precious lettuce and tomato falling out of my bun, I fail to notice the Ponytail Man leave. Next thing I know his burger is left, discarded on a tray with a near full carton of chips. I start weighing up the odds of whether he’s to return and, if not, my being able to eat those chips myself and whether anyone would realise it isn’t actually my food.

Curiously I notice how customers outside awaiting their numbers to be called, in a food like bingo, notice the absence of an owner to this half eaten burger and untouched chips also. Evidently they are in agreement with my thinking; nobody in their right mind would leave a whole half of a Burger Fuel burger.

After a few minutes an efficient employee ventures outside to clear tables. He notices the lonely tray of food, sat alongside another discarded tray that lived on the table before Ponytail Man arrived. He clears the old dirty tray, whilst looking around to find an owner of The Half Eaten Burger, none in sight. Though he leaves it there, hopeful someone will return.

Still customers peer at the burger and chips, even passersby are glancing over now, as there’s an air of curiosity surrounding the area. Finally Mr Efficient Employee clears the burger. Shrugging as he does so. A group of people waiting watch wistfully as the burger gets taken away for an un-ceremonial burial in the rubbish. I am certain we are all thinking of how we could have devoured and enjoyed those untouched chips.