You know how you can drive up to a Burger King and ask for a hamburger and that’s all you want—just a hamburger—except you also want barbecue sauce on the side, and you ask for it, the barbecue sauce, not once but twice actually because it’s your favorite and the hamburger just isn’t the same without it, it’s your special sauce, it makes the hamburger, and you zip right home because the burger is still hot in its bag on the passenger seat and you can smell that famous flame grilled smell and your stomach is talking, no, it’s actually screaming louder than even your three year old which you didn’t think was possible and you finally get home and tear open the bag and guess what? no barbecue sauce, and damn it! now you don’t even want the hamburger, and that’s the moment you realize that’s actually how the whole world works, and it doesn’t matter if it’s barbecue sauce or the surgeon at the hospital who forgot to take the sponge out of your dad’s gut before he stitched him back up almost good as new he said except he isn’t because of the sponge and the infection that leeched into his heart which used to beat.
