Well, here's another I really don't know what brought this one on, either xD Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

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It was disgusting. It was sickening. It was torture arranged under two minutes between pieces of bread. She didn't even know half the stuff in this ungodly concoction; there was meat somewhere, she thought. And lettuce and tomatoes and pickles. At least, there -should- have been. The burger just seemed like some sickly, multi-toned blob cradled in a flimsy wrapper.

"Well, I talked to your teachers today," suddenly came the voice from the driver's seat of the car. The passenger blinked and glanced over with nervously wide eyes. "And they say you could be doing better," her mother reprimanded. The frosty November wind floated apathetically outside.

She opened her mouth wide and shoved as much of the burger into her mouth as possible, incisors cutting through the various ingredients with a 'squish.'

"You've been slacking in Chemistry again. And your Trigonometry grades have gone down." She frowned and focused on the road; always on the road. Don't look away. Never look away.

The passenger's mother was only given a sigh, delivered through a mouthful of mystery meats and squishy condiments. It had suddenly gone sour, bitter, and vomit-like in the pregnant pause. Jennifer Brown shook her head and continued driving. "Sometimes, Jess, you're so impossible."

It was delicious.

"We be givin' tha' Bahgah Kin' ah run fer 'is moneh!"

The heavily accented voice shouted from the other side of the phone. Mr. Brown nodded excitedly, pumping one hand into the air with a whoop. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. John's Burgerhouse Emporium was doing so well! The name! That must've been it. Oh, he could remember a few months back, where he was having the same conversation, but in the future tense. Brown's Burgers didn't roll off the tongue, he recalled his daughter saying once. The yes man on the line had followed up with a: "But it'll sure as hell go down easy!" He had been ecstatic. His wife had been overjoyed. Little Jess couldn't care less. From then on, he had daily calls from Ol' Jim (Or, at least, that's what Mr. Brown could make out through that accent).

Triumphant for the twenty second time that month, the patriarch of the Brown family marched to the dinner table, which was adorned with three identical brown bags. "Well then, team," he said. That's how he always addressed them: 'Team.' "Shall we examine the product?" He was so enthusiastic.

And, in unison, the Brown family unwrapped their packages and bit into what John had dreamed about for years. Mr. Brown loved it. His wife forced a smile. Jess blinked. It was disgusting.

"Aye, there ya go, darling!" her father announced, patting his wife on the shoulder as he bit into the burger again. Squish. "Erm… I-I wouldn't want to force you to make more than needed," she replied, the wrinkles around her mouth stretching with the added strain of maintaining the expression. "Anyway, you would not believe what I heard from Jess's-"

"I think it's fantastic, daddy!" Jess smiled. And never before had John Brown been so happy. He cried. He cried and cried as he held his daughter close.

She was alone. Dark hair spilled down her shoulders only to be gathered up in a pretty pink ribbon. Father was so delighted that he went to go eagerly watch the building of his first factory like a hawk. It wouldn't be finished for another month, Ol' Jim had told him, but "Damn, will tha' be such a beaut!" Jess smiled and her pearly whites were met with an identical shade staring right back at her. Mother was just afraid of him succeeding, she reassured herself; just like how she was afraid of her daughter. Oh, the gods would be so pleased.

Jess kneeled reverently in front of the altar.

She pressed her finger to her lips, hushing one of the ever-watching, yet identical and inquisitive faces in the tile. And then it was in and thinner than any French fry. Her other hand gently ran along the porcelain shrine as endless streams of worship flowed from her mouth.

Ever since report cards had come in, her mother had been harsher and harsher with her. "Study, study, study!" her shrill voice would echo between her ears. The only way to shut the mantra of disappointment was, Jess soon found, was to drown it out in faint 'squishes.'

It was December already, and it was cold. The customers, Mr. Brown boasted, would want to come to John's Burgerhouse Emporium for a warm burger (With warm slop in the middle, too) and somewhere they could relax and eat. Jess thought that it was a great idea, and thought about it more as she watched the large sign with painted letters being hoisted up atop the building. The J, B, and E looked so elegant, she said to herself, her trembling fingers encased in thin gloves and thick pockets.

Oh, one day, she wanted her own burgerhouse emporium.

The inside of the factory looked so amazing, especially at night. The faint amounts of moonlight caught on each glittering piece of machinery and shone on every belt of leather, creating a dark, angular wonderland for the condiment deprived soul. It was still cold, Jess mumbled into the little mist that kept following her face around. Bet it wouldn't be so cold up there, she wagered with herself, making her way up the metal stairs with cute 'clinks.' Jess smiled and twirled the master ring of keys artfully around her index finger. John Brown had been so excited about surveying the factory the next day that he'd forgotten that he left the metallic snowflake on the table.

Everything looked so much cooler from the top! Her grin spread until her teeth shone. And then she was peering down into the meat grinder, amused by the little sparkles of light that reached up to meet her. But she wanted to see them alive! Her hand quickly found the 'Start' button near the wall. The lights moved and danced and greeted her with little smiles just like hers; little teeth that beckoned her and called her name. Her father was far away, now, and so was her mother. But, oh, never had she felt so close to the shrine she paid homage to every night. It was there, she could have sworn, making happy faces, too. And then she was jumping into that caricature of a fan, but this one was all blades and no wind.

Piety had never been so expensive.

Squish.