A Fancy DinnerMature

Panting and drenched with sweat, he tumbled down onto a park bench in Fast Food Row. The wrought iron was sizzling, but the wooden planks of the bench weren't much better. "So hot!" he gasped. 

His eyes adjusted to the oppressive wavering heat of the pavement, to the parched cracked soil, the sickly grass, and then widened under the cool inviting smile of the Taco Bell. "I really need a drink," he told himself as he eagerly approached the greasy doors and swooshed them open to a rush of icy conditioned air, "but as long as I am here; she did say she wanted to have 'steak' for dinner."

The End

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