The Case of Boomerang Billy

I like to think of myself a culinary connoisseur. I’ve dined on the finest fare my city has to offer—from endive salads to salads in dives (the goat cheese and walnut salad at Bob’s Bar& Billiards is surprisingly delicious). So I felt compelled to sample the offerings from the latest establishment that popped up in my neighborhood, an American bistro with a name that did not compute: The Burger Shake.

I walked in to find a common fast food joint with uninspired décor. The only “bright spot” in the room was not very bright at all—my nephew, Billy, at the front of the queue, taking orders. And when I say he isn’t very bright, I’m being kind.

I waited for my turn to order and say hello to my nephew, who I hadn’t seen since his college graduation six months earlier.

“Welcome to the Burger Shake. Can I shake your order?” he asked, his eyes hypnotized by the screen before him.

“I’ll take one order of how the heck are you doing, Billy?”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have that on the menu…oh, hey, Uncle Ace. What are you doing here?”

“I came to discover this delicacy you call a ‘Burger Shake.’ What in the hairy heck is it?”

“We take a burger, put everything you want on it—pickles, tomatoes, mayonnaise—shove into a blender and hit puree.”

A thousand questions immediately flooded my mind, but only one surfaced to my lips: “But why?”

“It’s for people on the go.”

“On the go to the doctor’s office to get their stomach pumped? Anyway, what’s going on with you since you graduated, Billy?”

I’m not sure why I asked that question, for there was only one possible answer from someone with his skills, intellect and ambition.

“I moved back home with my parents,” he answered.“Not surprising,” I quipped, “you did major in psychology. Did you think about the insurance implications of moving back home?”

“No insurance imp…imp…problems. All my stuff is covered.”

“Stuff? What stuff do you have?”

“You know, my college supplies—shot glasses, a beer bong and a bean bag that smells like nacho cheese.”

“Billy, it sounds like you’re a ‘boomerang kid,’” I said, casting a you-may-be-waiting-a-while glance at the people behind me. “And your stuff might not be as covered as you think.”

Why was Ace throwing a boomerang into the conversation?

For help solving this mystery and to check your solution against Ace’s, click here.

Jonathan Hermann (hermannism@gmail.com) is an IA contribution editor.