Eats to Die For! Read Online Free PDF Page A

survey?”
    â€œYes, regarding how often you come to Burger Heaven, what you order, and so on.”
    â€œOh, well…”
    â€œIt will only take a minute or two, and in return for you time and information, we will give you a gift certificate for your next visit.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œAbsolutely.” She smiled broadly, which made her look very unlike a security guard.
    â€œAll right,” I said.
    â€œExcellent, let’s just step out of the doorway.” She led me a few steps away to an alcove, and handed me the clipboard. “It’s just a few questions.”
    Since taking the clipboard and writing on it took two hands, I had to set the napkin-wrapped burger bite down on the counter. The survey questions were pretty basic: Do you live in the neighborhood? How often to you visit Burger Heaven? The prices are competitive; Agree, Disagree, Don’t Know…that sort of thing. It did, in fact, take only a minute to complete, including jotting down my email to receive further coupons. I handed everything back to the grinning guard who thanked me so emphatically one would think I’d just donated a kidney to her, and handed me the gift certificate.
    I glanced down at it and saw it was for ten bucks! “This is very nice,” I said, but when I looked up again, she was gone.
    And so was the wrapped up bit of burger I’d set down to take the survey.
    Okay, all right; somebody thought it was trash and picked up like a good employee. That’s all.
    You’re certain of that , the voice of Raymond Burr intoned in my head, phrasing as a statement, not a question.
    Well…even if I was not convinced, with a ten dollar gift certificate, I could try it again sometime.
    Right now I thought I have a word with the new tomato. Going outside, I sidled up to the happy group on the sidewalk, only to be told to get out of the shot by a woman taking a picture of them with her phone. Once the woman was done, I went to the tomato and said hi. She smiled without really looking at me, handed me an ad flier and said, by rote, “There’s no hunger in Heaven.”
    â€œGot a second to talk?” I asked.
    â€œSorry, but we’re not suppose to fraternize, just perform,” she replied.
    â€œWell, I was really hoping to talk to Luisa anyway, you know, the tomato who was here earlier today?”
    The tomato handed a flier to a middle-aged Japanese man, whose expression indicated that he was wondering on what planet he has suddenly found himself.
    â€œDon’t know any Luisa,” she said, “and I’ve been here since nine this morning.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œSir,” another voice said, and I turned to see the happy security guard, only now she wasn’t quite so happy. “I’m very sorry, sir, but we can’t really allow you to interfere with the duties of the Heavenly Host.”
    â€œThe Heavenly Host?”
    â€œThe performers. Please, sir.” Taking my arm, she started pulling me away gently but firmly—firmly enough as to imply that if I became a problem it would no longer be gently. “It’s an insurance problem, you see.”
    I didn’t, really, but I decided not to press the issue. “I am sorry. They’re just so…”
    â€œHeavenly,” she finished for me.
    â€œThat’s the word. Well, thank you again for the gift certificate. Goodbye.”
    â€œHave a heavenly day, sir. Come again.”
    As I walked back to my car, I attempted to make sense of what had gone on today. The new woman in the tomato suit was plainly lying, because I had seen for myself Louie Sandoval standing out in front of the restaurant, but what was the point of lying? Nothing made any sense.
    I drove down Ventura toward home, but while stopped at a light, I made another decision. Louie had wanted me to get a burger sample, and I had failed. Even though I still found it a little hard to swallow that it was