Short-Order Cook

　　 by Jim Daniels

　　 An average joe comes in

　　 and orders thirty cheeseburgers and thirty fries.

　　 I wait for him to pay before I start cooking.

　　 He pays.

　　 He ain't no average joe.

　　 The grill is just big enough for ten rows of three.

　　 I slap the burgers down

　　 throw two buckets of fries in the deep frier

　　 and they pop pop， spit spit. . .

　　 pssss. . .

　　 The counter girls laugh.

　　 I concentrate.

　　 It is the crucial point--

　　 they are ready for the cheese：

　　 my fingers shake as I tear off slices

　　 toss them on the burgers/fries done/dump/

　　 refill buckets/burgers ready/flip into buns/

　　 beat that melting cheese/wrap burgers in plastic/

　　 into paper bags/fried done/dump/fill thirty bags/

　　 bring them to the counter/wipe sweat on sleeve

　　 and smile at the counter girls.

　　 I puff my chest out and bellow：

　　 Thirty cheeseburgers！ Thirty fries！

　　 I grab a handful of ice， toss it in my mouth

　　 do a little dance and walk back to the grill.

　　 Pressure， responsibility， success.

　　 Thirty cheeseburgers， thirty fries