writing ‘open letters to’ seems to be the thing to do these days and i haven’t done one yet, so i thought i must give it a go.

i looked around and the ‘Open letter to Miley Cyrus’ and ‘Ben Affleck the new Batman? Great hordes of catfish’ inboxes were both full and overflowing and so i had to look elsewhere.

fortunately as i was pondering this very thing on my cycle home from helping out at a local Spanish congregation youth group [in which we sat around the table and bilingualled – it’s a word – what to do when you get a small stone or pebble in your shoe] i was presented with the perfect opportunity to do so.

realising on the ride home that the small stone or pebble might have been metaphoric [in which case my very practical assistance might have been somewhat off the mark unless it miraculously translated into helpful metaphorical advice when turned into the Spanish] i realised i was hungry and would give anything for a Burger King Coke slushee and sweet potato fries [i realised this by being hungry and the subliminal message magicked my way by the Burger King sign i chanced upon did the rest] and by ‘anything’ i meant the appropriate amount of money [or a quick lesson in three ball juggling if they were up for some skill swapping]

but when i got to the Burger King, the door was locked. and so in was sad because now i couldn’t enjoy a burger king Coke slushee and the aforementioned sweet potato fries [and i was prepared to settle for normal average potato fries if need be, i’m not that picky]

and then it dawned on me. no, i’m just kidding, it wasn’t THAT late yet. but i did come to realise that there was an alternative means of getting my mealic [that’s probably not a word] satisfaction… as i looked to the right i saw the Burger King drive-thru and knew that all my problems were solved [well not ALL of them, it’s going to take a lot more to get that nasty itch away, but that’s a different open letter]

so i cycled up to said drive-thru. and i decided upon my exact order [add chicken nuggets to the aforementioned slushee and fries cos i have to get my beautiful wife something] and got the attention of the person behind the speaker screen and started to make my order.

she interrupted me. something about “I’m sorry sir, but we can’t serve you because you’re on a bicycle and not in a car.”

I’m sorry, WHAT? Had i missed the ‘don’t make an order if you’re not in a car but on a bicycle’ sign? I looked around. I hadn’t.

Was Burger King really going to push the word “Drive” from the phrase “Drive-thru” to its extreme? They were.

oh I’m sorry [I wasn’t!] – is my cycling money not as powerful a persuasive buying resource as the next person’s car money? [turns out it was not!]

and i don’t they would have even have let me barter my poorly-looked-upon cycling money for the next person who drove’s up ‘highly-appreciated car money’ either. she sounded pretty definitive.

i felt as awkward as a Will Smith family at a Miley Cyrus twerkathon.

the end.

you hear that, Burger King? The end. No happy ending. Just a coke slushee and sweet potato [or regular potato, I’m really not fussy!] and chicken nuggets free evening.

of sadness.

i hope you will consider adding ‘cycling money’ to your ‘car money’ monopoly ridden drive-thru’s in future revampings of company policy. i imagine i am not the only sad cyclist you have caused on this continent. do you want to be responsible for sad cyclist disease?

yes, oh Burger King, sad cyclist disease!

wait, is there an actual Burger King? what is your crown made of? argh, who cares, you suck. cycling money!

your humble servant [who thinks you’re a bit of a car money tyrant!]

brett fish