Fast Food, Uh, Tucker

“Let’s eat at Junk in the Bag.”

“OK,” I agree with my brother.

“They have 25 cent burgers. I’ll treat.”

1978 or so. We leave his apartment, a large two-bedroom above Poor Richard’s Bookstore (as was, it’s much more now) and walk down a couple flights of back stairs, around the bookstore and out into the bright Colorado Springs day. His wife and daughter are with his wife’s mom for the weekend. It’s OK with me. I love them, but I like hanging out alone with my brother more.

Junk in the Bag, better known as Jack in the Box is a few blocks away. We go up to the counter. Kirk orders four burgers, a bag of fries and some giant beverage. I just get a cheeseburger, fries and a coke. We find a booth and sit down.

Kirk and I bite into our burgers. By the time I’m half through mine, he’s finished two. “Someone’s suing Junk in the Bag,” he says.


“They say they’re not using real beef, but kangaroo meat. I think that’s crazy.”

“Yeah, but 25 cents for a burger?”

“You got a point. But still, I think people would notice, the taste’d be different. I don’t notice a blinkin’ difference in me tucker. It’s the same dinkum burger it’s always been, mate.

12 thoughts on “Fast Food, Uh, Tucker

  1. Yum. Might have been an improvement by the sound of it. Lucky escape for those roos.

    I think I would have liked your brother. My husband and I call another one of those fast food-type franchises Kentucky Chucky.

  2. Lying about what is in your burgers is bad but kangaroo is OK and supposed to be “heart smart”. Must be all that hopping around they do. Still, it’s probably a bit odd that we eat our national emblem.

  3. We had Jack in the Box in NJ…McDonald’s ruled the roost, though. Ha! I had never heard it called Junk in the Bag.

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