This afternoon, Agent J and I took a detour into the Burger King on post.  He ordered a “little hamburger with nothing on it,” while I ordered single patty Whopper- no cheese.  “This place is nasty,” he said.  “We’re going to get sick, aren’t we?”

Our fast food was fast- too fast.  The dame at the window threw a giant bag at us, apologized for the wait, and slammed shut her little window.  I was flustered and muttered, “Wow, this must be one helluva Whopper.”  I put the bag on the seat next to me and drove away.  A minute later, while dividing up the royal swag, I counted six double Whoppers with cheese, and a “little hamburger with nothing on it.”  I tossed the little hamburger back to Agent J and asked him what we should do with the Whoppers.  He pointed out the window to a group of skinny Army boys and said, “Let’s give it to the men from the woods. I’ll be they’re tired of eating snakes.”  So we did.

I pulled over and yelled, “Hey!  BK just gave me someone else’s order and I can’t eat all of it.  Y’all want it?”  The boys ran over and started pawing through the sack like little beggar children in a third world dump.  Agent J stuck his head out the back window and yelled, “It’s a helluva Whopper, guys!  Now you don’t gotta eat snakes anymore!”

The guys laughed and thanked him, and we continued on our way.