[Today’s challenge from The Daily Post — describe a restaurant menu item that’s named after you]
Scanning the menu board above and behind the register, Juan considered just ordering a Coke before deciding the Chicken Club sounded safe enough to compensate for his hunger. The young woman in the green and gold uniform pressed buttons on the register, then looked up; seeing Butch to Juan’s right, she nodded, and pressed a few more buttons on the register before announcing the amount of legal tender required to initiate the requested transaction.
Juan pointed with this right thumb over at Butch, glaring at the uniformed woman. “He’s ordering too.”
“Oh!” With his right hand, Butch pushed an amount of currency across the plastic counter towards the uniform. “Les, she knows what I want.”
“The Butch!” Les pointed to the upper left corner of the large overhead board. Glancing at her name tag (MELISSA), Juan then looked at the menu. The third item, under BELLY BUSTER and DOUBLE PATTY MELT, was THE BUTCH — Two quarter-pound 100% beef patties, topped with pickle relish and grilled mushrooms, a GIANT tomato slice smack dab in the middle, and pizza sauce on the top and bottom buns!
Juan made a mental note to ask Annie (one of few people he could comfortably confide his unfamiliarity with English slang) for the definition of smack dab, then turned his attention to Butch. “You order it because it has your name?”
Butch’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Yeah!”
“No.” Behind the plastic counter, Les looked annoyed. “Remember, you came in with your family every Thursday, and you ordered the same thing.”
“Other customers saw it, decided to give it a try.” At the far left end of the counter, a large man in a loosely-knotted tie dried a brown plastic tray with a faded gray towel. “It got so popular, we put it on the menu.” He dropped the tray he was drying on top of a stack, picked up another tray from a shorter stack, wiped it with his towel. “Kids love it.”
Juan nodded, looked back up at the board. “No cheese?”
“Oh!” Butch scratched the short tufts of tow on his head. “You can get it with cheese. Or even mayo!”
Quickly mixing mayonaisse in his mind with the other ingredients in The Butch, Juan fought the urge to retch. “So they named it after you.”
“Oh!” Butch glanced at Les, then the man in the tie. “I thought that was always what you called it.”
“Ever since it’s been on the menu, yeah.” The man in the tie dropped the tray into the dry stack, and tossed his towel behind him.
“Oh! And that’s why I started ordering it, ‘cuz it was on the menu.”
Juan knew he had to act quickly to avoid the feeling of trying to break into the engine room of a runaway train. “Can we get this to go instead?”