I like my burgers very, very thin, with four or five dill pickle slices (lengthwise is best) and about a quarter-inch of cheap yellow mustard. If I squeeze the bun, the mustard should ooze. Save the lettuce and tomato for some health-conscious person’s salad.

I do not put any salt on a burger.

If the French fries are fat, I need a lot of ketchup.

If the French fries are thin, I don’t need any ketchup.

I sprinkle a little salt on both kinds.

Free refills? I order a small drink and just keep refilling it. No refills? I order the largest cup in the place and try to hold back.

And thank you, no; if I’d wanted cheese, I would have ordered a CHEESEBURGER.

Shake? I can’t help it; I’m old. Oh, you mean. . . a SHAKE! If my blood sugar is low, I’ll have a child-sized chocolate shake, but only if I’m at Steak and Shake, because McDonald’s and all those other fast food places don’t really have shakes; they just have flavored ice cream mix. At Steak and Shake, they have real Shakes.

They have real steak, too; it’s just ground up.

Kind of like the fake french fries in the public schools: they’re not really french fries, they’re potato flake mix put through a mold and deep fried.

They’re more like latkes than french fries. Bland, bad latkes. Latkes shaped like round smiley faces or various holiday icons.

Don’t forget your ketchup. It’s the vegetable today.

Mamacita, Scheiss Weekly