By Mike Andrelczyk
The phone rang. It was Donnie. He thanked me for dropping off the mail and wanted to know if I would bring him four Burger King cheeseburgers, two fries and two Dr. Peppers and said he’d pay me back.
I agreed mostly because he had one leg and lived with a parrot named Mr. Whistler and his wife was dead and he just sat in a chair and watched the weather channel all day.
I went into my room, got some money, packed my one-hitter and picked up my keys.
Grandma was still napping in front of the tv. BET was airing one of those daytime courtroom shows. I heard the tv judge say “guilty” as I walked out the door.
I took the long way to Burger King through the rich development and smoked and noticed how pretty much every cloud looked like a submarine. There were five big clouds and they all looked like submarines. Slowly gathering forces and moving to attack. I swerved to miss an SUV parked in the street, made a right and went down a street that took me out of the neighborhood.
The weed made me hungry. Soon I was staring at a menu with pictures of hamburgers, onion rings and chicken tenders and telling someone I couldn’t see how many cheeseburgers, fries and sodas I wanted to buy. I bought some cheeseburgers for myself and one for Grandma too.
I paid for the food and took a handful of Donnie’s fries and ate them. They were so salty that I needed a sip of one of Donnie’s Dr. Peppers. I merged into the traffic.
I passed the outlet mall and I saw a woman walking down the shoulder of the highway holding a leash with an iguana on the end and pink umbrella above her head. It wasn’t raining. The iguana on a leash made me feel anxious and suddenly remembered that Sebald died of a heart attack while driving.
I reached into the Burger King bag and unwrapped a cheeseburger and ate it in four bites.
*
The weather channel was blasting. The screen displayed a satellite image of a hurricane swirling over the Bahamas. For a man that never left the house, Donnie was obsessed with the weather. It made sense I supposed. His parrot Mr. Whistler squawked and scrabbled around his cage when I walked in. Donnie smiled seeing the Burger King bag.
“Delivery man!” he said. He pointed to a $5 bill on the table. It didn’t cover the cost of his food but I picked it up without saying anything.
“How’s Grandma?”
“She’s good. Napping. Hi Mr. Whistler!” I said approaching the cage.
The parrot took three quick side-hops along his perch and pressed himself against the cage bars. I stuck my finger near his beak and he sort of bit it a little.
“Could you microwave those burgers for me? I do them for one-minute. But pause it at thirty seconds and open the door to let the hot air out. Can I have that soda?”
I handed him the Dr. Pepper and went into the kitchen.
“Could you wash my leg before you go?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Every once in a while Donnie would ask me to clean his leg. He’d remove his prosthetic leg and then I’d take some disinfectant spray and wipe it down with a paper towel. Sometimes I had to help him out of his chair and into the bathroom if he was struggling to get up.
I put a burger in the microwave and went over the kitchen table where he had a basket of various medicines. I looked through the pill bottles like I was perusing a magazine rack. There were a lot. I found the Percocet and carried the bottle over to the microwave. I waited for the microwave to beep then twisted the cap. I put another burger in and spilled about ten pills into a napkin when the microwave beeped again. I folded the napkin and put it in my pocket and placed the burgers on a paper plate along with some fries and served them to Donnie. He ate.
Then Donnie removed his leg. I cleaned off the prosthetic while we watched the weather channel. A radar image tracked the hurricane as it moved closer to the tip of Florida. I thought about what it must be like to lose a limb. To not be whole. To know a part of you is gone forever and to accept there would be things in life you couldn’t do anymore. It seemed like some sort of early death. Or another life. I thought about losses and gains. The front side of a coin is called the obverse. I didn’t think I’d deal with losing a limb very well. I wasn’t really a strong person. Some people seemed to adjust pretty well though. Acceptance was the key I supposed.
I finished with the prosthetic leg and helped Donnie put it back on.
“All set?” I asked.
“Yeah, thanks.”
That was it. Donnie was the one-legged burger king reigning from his throne. Watching the storms of the world destroy everything.
I went outside. It was a beautiful day. A submarine was cruising through the sky. I crossed the street and went inside.
******
Mike Andrelczyk is the author of four collections of poetry including “!!!” coming out on Ghost City Press in May. He lives in Pennsylvania. On Twitter @MikeAndrelczyk and Instagram mike_andrelczyk.