I am a Burger, because you are,contrary to popular belief, only what you eat best.
My burgers have had no Ketchup or Onion Rings of late.
I can do CrazyBurgerStunts or be a HappyMeal, but never be QuietlyEaten.
If you want, I can jump off my/your/the government's tray, or the brown tray loaded with napkins and lined with little toys to the right, or the broken tray at home that your Great Aunt once spilt all kinds of niceties onto and never cleaned, or whichever Godforsaken Tray you want me to take my GreatFall from,and become the Dismantled Burger lying on the ground (you can pick which kind, or even the exact spot if im feeling generous) in as many different pieces as I'm capable of separating into (which'll be around 7 and a quarter, unless you've customized me with your Onion Rings already), but I'll do it only if you can dupe me into believing that its either good for my skin, or will earn me a new pair of glares, or that you love me, or that it is the only way God wants me to say Thank You For Visiting This Space, Come Again Without Your Pets.
I'd take a picture of me and post it, but rumor goes Burgers Do Not Have Hands.
