January 25, 2010
So it was lunch time and Benny suggested this joint – Urban Burger.
I was skeptical on account of that I find the word “Urban” sickening when used in a marketing sense, like there’s dudes in a meeting trying to appeal to an audience, being all “Hmm Urban – It’s cool, hip and modern. I like it, let’s use that word to convince people to spend their money”. But I am a fan of burgers so I thought I’d take my chances. Upon eyeing the menu and assessing the lunch budget I settled for a regular serve of UB fries – $3.90. Minutes passed and I thought nothing of it except that they must be making them fresh and I’m down with fresh fries. When it reached 20 mins the rage started to burn. I mean, seriously, how long can it take to cook up some fries. People who had ordered after me were getting their food and that is one sure way to piss off The Creep.
I was losing my shit and then the red-headed fuck, who when not working Urban Burger most likely studies Arts/Business, with his fucking unicorn tattoo says “Your chips are ready but they’re a bit short” in a voice that was supposed to imply authority and professionalism but sounded like he was imagining what he’d sound like if his balls had actually dropped.
“A bit short?” I questioned
“Yeah” he says ” but if you want you can take a drink instead”
“But I ordered a regular size, not a short size. Are you cooking more? How long is it gonna take?”
When I asked these questions the fryer stuck his big head into the conversation, mean-mugging the shit out of me, Hwi and Benny.
“They’ll be a few more minutes” Fryer Man says.
“Yeah, but if you want you can take a drink for free instead” the red-headed fuck repeats.
Completely baffled as to why the dicks didn’t cook the amount of fries I ordered in the first place, I thought it was better to get out of the joint before I stabbed dude in the ear with the pointy end of a nearby salt shaker, so I opened the drinks fridge and snatched out one of their fancy glass bottled fruit sodas. Red Head was about say something about my choice of drink as if the offer only pertained to the cans of coke but as I heard him draw breath for the first word I shot him a look that implied that he best keep his mouth shut or I will smash my fruit soda over his head, gouge his fat fryer fuck’s torso with the sharp end and then fill the wound with newspaper before lighting it on fire.
As the Fat Kids left Urban Burger, Hwi let out “Yeah, you guys are shit”.
To be honest, I thought I’d turned a page and that 2010 was going to be a beef-free year but obviously not. Fuck you North Melbourne Urban Burger. Fuck you and your UB fries and your fucking fruit soda. It was shit.