Blargh.

I don’t eat a lot of greasy stuff, so maybe my stomach’s just confused. That would be the best case scenario. But frankly, I think it’s angry. Very, very angry. And vengeful. Definitely vengeful.

It was all in the name of research. My current book-in-progress, “Suzy Q. Paparazzi,” has a scene set in a local In-N-Out Burger. For those non-SoCal readers, In-N-Out is the holy grail of fast food burger joints. The shakes are made with real ice cream. The fries are cut from actual potatoes there in the store, right in front of your very eyes. Real, whole, honest-to-God potatoes. Plus the employees are paid well and receive benefits like vacations and 401Ks. It’s socially and gastronomically superior.

It also has four things on the menu. Burgers, fries, shakes, drinks. Period. Unless, you know the secret.

The secret menu with the secret code words. I knew a few, but I’m a simple girl. I don’t need a lot of specialization in my burger and fry combos. Mostly, I just want ketchup. Suzy, however, went in and got all complicated on me, ordered things I’ve never ordered and was actually not at all sure weren’t just urban legends. There is a lot of misinformation going around about the secret menu. It’s easy to be deceived. So I did the only thing I could do. I went in and ordered everything out of the book. All of it. Then I ate it.

One double-double animal style extra toast. One flying Dutchman. One animal fry. One chocolate shake. One strawberry shake.

One sick writer.

My husband did help on the consumption side of things but got pissy early on when I insisted on taking all the food apart at the table, so I could write down each of the ingredients. It did sort of end up looking like the frog dissection assignment you had in high school, but darn it, my readers need to know.

So do you want to know what a flying Dutchman is? Do you?

It knew it! You do! But I can’t say. Terribly mean of me, but some things just have to be saved for the book.

I will tell you Suzy intends the flying Dutchman to be the dog’s dinner. Needless to say, that was the one my dear husband wanted me to have all to myself. I literally ate the dog food. Just for you! Because I wanted to be sure it was authentic.

It was.

Afterwards I called a lawyer friend of mine to clear up a few legal facts, also for the manuscript. I didn’t sound good. I told her about the food. She laughed. “I admire your commitment to research,” she said.

So there you have it. I am willing to sicken myself in the name of authenticity, even if the book does start with the main character being mauled by a giant cartoon squirrel. But by God, it’s the right squirrel.

I have to go take some Maalox now.