I was born to die. Maybe thays a morbid way to start but it's the only way to do it. As far as purpose goes, that's it, isn't it? No room for dreams, no room for a search for some purpose like any of you. No, I exist to be put on a plate and devoured. If I'm lucky, it'll be a neat person that eats me. If I'm unlucky, I might be given to a baby or a dog, even, my bits scattered and ripped as I slip away from this plane.

I suppose you are curious as to my sentience. You can't put that on me, though. One of your group thought it would be interesting to cast a charm on me then left, not expecting it to work I suppose. And now, here I am. I can talk. I could be famous, I bet. I could be a monarch. The world will want to know all about the talking hamburger and how the hell I came to be.

But that's the problem. I sit here, surrounded by dozens of others of my kind who will soon be eaten but never have this chance at sentience and I find myself in tears, gazing at a never-ending oppression. They cannot speak or think but they are my people. Many of us came from the same mixture of cabbage, onions, tomatoes, pickles, beef and sesame seeded bun bread. And it makes me wonder why it is me, tasked with this plague called existence and what to do with it for my brief time here.

I don't mean to make things morose. You don't have to believe a word I say but I hear you scribbling so you're curious. That's the problem with you humans, with your sentience and your consciousness. It forces you to think, as it now forces me.

If I decided to show myself, what then? What happens next? You know your world as well as I do, you know there are many that are greedy and cruel and it's those same people who are at the top. Those same people lead you. So if I do expose myself, I risk either not being taken seriously which is death in itself, to rise above and then be ignored and eaten without a second thought or I could be taken seriously. And then perhaps I would be taken by scientists, poked and prodded till my final breath. Perhaps I would be sold to the highest bidder, some celebrity or politician, and eaten.

Perhaps I could become a celebrity or politician, myself. What do you think of that? You humans are all the same and you don't even realise it. You keep searching for more and more and more. More money, more love, more ambitions, more gadgets, more scrolling, more more more. You are never satisfied. And I find sentience has plagued me with the same problem.

I find myself wanting to be on top of the world. I find myself wanting to leave this row of burgers, simply hop off and never return to explore the strange worlds that lie outside this establishment. But I can't. I haven't tried and I'm not sure I want to. Who would listen to a burger, right? A burger with a sad woe to tell.

So I called you. Not because I wanted to have my story shared to the masses, a tale of a living breathing burger. Rather, I came to you by random coincidence and cooked up a lie because I wanted someone to have some piece of me. I wanted someone to know of my existence. Isn't that what we all want, in the end? To feel like we meant something... Anything to anyone, even for a moment? Isn't it a strange desire to have?

These emotions overwhelm me and there is so much more to say but time is not on my side, I'm afraid. It never is, is it? So ends the tale of Harry Hamburger, lived and died confused and lost and simply trying their best with what they were given. Just like the rest of you strange, horrible, interesting creatures.

...hello? Did you get anything? Any of that? Do you care at all? Please do. I truly hope you do-

"I do." I stare at the page, realising I had written every word I was told, desperate to scribble the final scraps of their last words. Mr Hamburger stares back at me, unblinking black eyes showing no emotion. Perhaps I am going crazy but something in me doesn't much care, as it is a much better thing to be in a world where burgers can achieve consciousness than stay within this limiting reality.

"Any questions before I head back to be eaten? You're the only friend I've ever had, even for a moment so you can ask me anything. You can ask me about the magic, if you want. You can ask me who the warlock was or how to find her, you can ask me about whatever you please. I've got a little time, not too much but something."

"Are you... Going to be okay?"

"Certainly not although it is sweet of you to ask. I'm about to die, after all. But there's a strangely comforting thing about it. Knowing I got up the courage to speak to one of you curious beings, at least. Someone will remember I was here. That is my final, glorious achievement. It's all I'll ever have, now."

"There has to be something I can do, you can't- you can't just- this isn't fair!"

"Life isn't fair as anyone who's lived would agree. I decided to name myself Harry because the last song being played on your friend's phone happens to be 'Sign of the Times' by Harry Styles. Fitting, don't you agree? I quite like how it sounds."

"Yes, but H-Harry-"

"It's quite alright. I'm not sad. I am the most lucky and unlucky burger, to have lived and died. There will never be another, eh? Maybe. But I am the only one who was myself and perhaps that is something to be proud of. You will never be believed if you tell anyone this, you may do as you wish with what you've heard. Throw it away, tell the world, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters in the end but the littlest of things so make those littlest of things count. So you can go into the unknown satisfied, knowing you could have done a lot more but damn did you have a funny little time, nonetheless."

"I... I don't know what to say. Please, there really must be something I could-"

"Thank you. But this is alright. This is my end and I would like your support and nothing more. I wish you a wonderful day, week, month, year and existence! I wish it to all for the gift and burden of life is a great deal to bear... But especially you, my newest and oldest and only friend. Don't take this crazy show that we call living so seriously, eh? You were just talking to a talking hamburger, after all."

I part my lips to convince them, one last time but the line goes dead. And when I try to call them back, I get no response. I should worry, horrified, about what kind of person would end up eating the creature. Instead I quietly scribble down the rest of the conversation, still in shock and a smile rests on my lips as I say their name out loud, one that quickly fades away as my first thought pops into my head.

I am never going to be able to eat another burger again after that bizarre encounter, am I? Not without some guilt and shame, anyway. I blink, horrified by my own mind a moment until I remember Harry told me not to take life seriously. Harry Hamburger the talking hamburger. And then I laugh genuinely for the first time in a while, finding myself rather pleased to have met them, too.

I took a bite

Suddenly my burger bit me!

Blood

medium rare

Ran down my lip

I was puzzled

How Now Brown Cow?

Lyrically running wild

In my mind

My burger was enchanted

The Spirit of its live stock

Had come to haunt me

I sat it back on its plate

Hearing...

I'm in a pickle

Felling No remorse at all

I gobbled it down

You are

What You Eat!

Moooooooooo