Sauced

After a tasteless dish of fish 'n chips at the local Irish pub for Ashley's birthday party, Kendrick and I joined in the festivities on the dance floor and at the bar. As usual, Kendrick's imbibing led to his a cheeseburger craving, but this time it was upgraded to a need for a whopper. Walking 20 minutes was out of the question, so we rented a bicycle rickshaw and zipped along the pedestrianized street, dodging drunken Danes in the process. "Don't vomit too hard!" shouted Kendrick to a young man keeled over. As we passed him by, a hot dog came whizzing out of nowhere and the bun crushed by our wheels. At the burger king, where consequence was revealed under the fluorescent light, I wiped off bits of remoulade from Kendrick's cheek and hair.