Whopper

Shay Sheridan

Just a little drive-thru ficlet


"The thing is," Ray says.

Fraser cocks an eyebrow. "What thing, Ray?"

"You know. The thing."

Fraser blinks. "Can you be more specific?"

"No, I don't think so." Ray looks straight ahead, over the steering wheel, as if he's on stakeout searching for a perp instead of sitting here at the drive-through waiting for two Whoppers, a large fries and two chocolate shakes.

"Ah. Well, then."

"Come on, Fraser. The thing. Our thing. This thing." He risks a glance at Fraser, who is now peering intently at his face. "The thing we got."

"Is this thing…bigger than a bread box, Ray?"

"Jeez, Fraser! Do I got to spell it out?"

"Well…yes, Ray. Apparently so."

"The thing is…the thing that's between us. The thing we don't talk about."

"Oh." When Ray sneaks a glance, Fraser's face is slightly flushed. "Our….thing."

"Exactly." Silence.

"So," Fraser says slowly, "what about it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Ray says, and he's a little flushed now, too, "except I um…I like it."

"As do I, Ray."

"Oh," says Myra McDougal, sliding out the drawer with the Whoppers, fries and chocolate shakes. "That'll be six dollars and ninety-seven cents." She waits for the blond guy to finish kissing the guy with the weird hat so he can fumble for cash. "Thank you. And have it your way."

"Thank you kindly," says the guy with the weird hat as they pull away.


redchance @ aol.com
Back to Due South