A herd of cattle grazes contently just across the fence from a hamburger joint. As greasy smoke rises from the roof, the aroma of cooking beef wafts toward the pasture.
A calf says to his mother, “My friend told me people eat cows in there.” “Don’t believe everything you hear,” she replies. “They only take our milk to make ice cream.”
But mom knows better; she can read. The sign out front says, “Ice cream,” but also “Hamburgers.”
Inside, a man with already clogged arteries eats a double cheeseburger with salty fries. It’s situational irony, served with a mother’s love.
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Flash Fiction by David 
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