People are there to eat slop that looks like *****, not real *****. My uncle loved Burger King because he found true love there with Peggy, a beautiful laborer whose long, silky hair had 4% fryer fat in it and whose legs were whiter than mayonnaise and whose teeth were sharper than barnacles from Japan. One Wednesday morning, as they made passionate love behind an abandoned Kmart for 12 minutes, Peggy asked cautiously: "What if Kmart suddenly comes out of bankruptcy?" My uncle smiled, showing off large upper fangs that looked like cracked sugar cubes spray-painted with varnish. "It'll never happen," he assured her because, as a Burger King-trained lover, he was willing to lie about Kmart if he had to.