bad burgers

i am lying prone in the dentist chair for a new crown to replace one 30 years decrepit w/ decay. the doc says i have 'long roots' which is why i need not one but three hits of Novocain or else i'll flop around in the chair like a beached trout. the temporary insert is plastic. 'chew on one side until you get the new one', he advises. back home later, the drug worn off, my jaw throbs with the abuse i suffered. the left side of my mouth can't smile, drool drools out and it hurts to open. eat something, you'll feel better i tell myself like a Jewish mother. i check the Food Wall menu to find something tofu soft and then rethink. ah ha! there's leftovers in the fridge from the barbecue last Sunday. i toss out the chicken (which smells like dead mice) and accept the frozen tomatoes, brown lettuce and two ok burger patties. i tease out a crusty bottom-of-foot-yellow bun. i plop the patties into the Teflon skillet i bought my room mate Travis months ago, replacing his old one. the surface was so scarred it took totally un-Teflon like, violent scrapings to scour clean. i tap in some garlic powder and pepper and cover the pan with a glass lid. it seems as if it's gonna take awhile to get cooked so i drift back to the piano to practice, losing track until i smell something nasty. it's the burgers! fuck! at first i hope (finger to chin): 'hmm..., they must be ready. nice.' but the kitchen's a disaster, the pan is in flames, smoke is billowing like a dust storm and the burgers have transmogrified into rock hard charcoal briquettes. i click off the burner and yank the pan clear just as the smoke alarm squawks with a robotic female voice: 'fire! fire!'. the smoke fills the kitchen and hallway. i flip on the porch fan to suck out the smoke. it crashes to the floor. my cat skitters down the hall, her hind legs like dragon fly wings. i re-set the fan, the smoke dissipates, the alarm gives up and i construct a sorry assemblage of bun, 'blackened' burger, a sliver of bad-smelling cheese, 2 tomatoes, a slab of lettuce and a squish of ketchup. i had to chisel the burgers off the pan. a hammer would have helped. i eat the bed i make. i eat the embedded teflon too. i shuffle down the hall and fire up the latest episode of The Wire. i inhaled my chemical dinner, careful to keep everything to one judicious side on my mouth. later on, washing up, i realize i'd destroyed the new Teflon and will have to buy another. hey, not all homos can cook.