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July 29, 1996

Copyright 1996 - Greg Bulmash - All Rights Reserved

It was a quiet evening. I'd just settled down in front of the television to eat my dinner when there was a banging on the door. "Police," a man's voice shouted. "Open up! We have a warrant!"

Rushing to the door before they got impatient and busted it down, I saw through the window two law enforcement officers with guns and flak jackets... and two men in white lab coats. They saw me as well and both guns were leveled at my head. "Open up," one of them shouted. "Now!"

Just as I turned the knob, they kicked the door open, pushing me back. One officer advanced into the house while the other threw me up against the wall and started cuffing me. "Clear," came a yell from the officer who'd gone exploring. The two guys in the lab coats entered the house and moved in toward the living room, the other officer pushing me behind them.

When I got in there, the guys in the lab coats were inspecting my dinner. "Mmmm hmmm," one said, "just as we suspected. Burger King. You know, they char-broil their meat." He looked at me with disgust as if he'd found three dead bodies instead of a burger.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything," I asked. "Who are you guys? LAPD, Sherrif, FBI?"

"Worse," the other lab-coated guy said, getting in my face and waving an onion ring at me. "We're your worst nightmare..." His voice lowered to an ominous tone. "Food Police."

His partner held up my Western Bacon Cheeseburger. "Char-broiling meat increases the carcinogen levels - 40% higher chance of getting cancer. And what is this... cheese? Don't you know that the latest data says that dairy products are bad for you. Increased risk of cancer, increased risk of heart disease. And..." He lifted the bun and emitted a gasp. "BACON!!!!!"

One of the gun-toting officers dropped to the floor and covered his head like there was an air attack coming in. A blow to the back of my head dropped me to my knees and things started getting hazy. Through my clouded vision I saw what looked like the bomb squad come rushing into the room. The burger was dropped into a metal cannister and rushed back out of the house, presumably to be detonated somewhere safe.

The onion ring waver stood in front of me, holding my large cup of Coca Cola. "Caffeine, artifical coloring, processed sugar... I might as well just tell Larry here to shoot you now."

"Shoot him now," Larry asked excitedly...

To be continued in tomorrow's edition of GBHP

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