Burger in the Hand
The unlikely trio, Walter, Nathan and Friedrich slouched on stools at the table. Friedrich, who had come from the 19th Century land of the Wends, gaped at the assortment of dark-coloured people drifting in and out of this eating place. Some were like Nathan. Others were taller and their hair like sheep’s wool glued to their scalps. The women who served were tanned deep yellow, their eyes slanted.
Friedrich bit into his bread-meal that Walter named a “burger”. He thought that was a strange name for bread buns with meat in the middle. His father was a “burgher”, but here these people from the world of Australia called food, “burgers”.
What a strange world where most people were different from him, and bread and meat were mayors of town.
They had embarked on the transport in a horseless carriage that made Friedrich ill to the point they had to stop on the side of the road several times for him to be sick, before they reached this town Walter called Alice. He remembered before they left, Nathan had poked his head in the morgue. No Boris, he reported.
Friedrich sighed. Now he was stranded in this weird place called Australia in a town that had a girl’s name. Was this the price he had to pay to save Wilma’s life? The Wend boy ground the tasteless “burger” between his teeth. How would he survive without his mother’s cooking? How would he cope being a fair-skinned Wend in this vast land of colourful people? The novelty of visiting and exploring this strange land Australia had worn off…
The two men, one pink, one brown chomped through their burgers and jabbered in their Australian language. Friedrich had no idea what they said. He just hoped they were plotting to outsmart the cunning Boris.
© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2018
Feature Photo: Now, this is a Real Burger © L. M. Kling 2017