Sarah Morgenthaler - The Tourist Attraction

The bald eagle soared overhead, turning lazy circles against a backdrop of rich forested Alaskan mountainside.

As luck would have it, Graham Barnett had seen this same eagle on the way to work that morning. High above them both, the sun-kissed peaks of the Chugach Mountains glittered with their snowy caps, tree lines receding into grays and browns of weathered boulders.

Graham couldnt have asked for a more peaceful moment to enjoy his hometown of Moose Springs. A moment to sit on the back steps of his diner, take a break, and sip a root beer.

If it just werent for the moose trying to make love to his pickup truck fifteen feet away.

Ulysses, we do this every day, buddy. Resting his arms on his thighs, he watched the fifteen-hundred-pound bull moose press his nostrils to the window of Grahams abused Dodge, snuffing along the seal. Long, wet streaks of moose goo smeared on glass still crusty from the previous days love affair.

The truck just isnt into you. Youve got to let this go, man. Move on to something better.

This was all about Grahams buns. Which was understandableGraham liked them toobut Ulysses was taking this to a whole other level.

For whatever reason, the moose was obsessed with the smell of the fresh baked bread he picked up from the local bakery every day. Graham didnt have the storage space in his diners freezer to make this a weekly supply run, and bread was far too expensive to ship into town when he could buy it locally. So Grahams truck always smelled like buns.

And the moose loved it.

Ulysses rubbed his heavy body against the passenger side door, scratching his shoulder and making deep, guttural huffing noises of appreciation. The truck had lost two door handles this way, and Graham had long since given up replacing the passenger side mirror.

You and I are going to have a talk one of these days. You know this is weird, right?

Draining his root beer, Graham listened to the volume inside the diner grow louder. Whose great idea had it been to install a jukebox? That was just asking the customers to stay even longer.

When Graham rose to his feet, the bull moose swung his massive head in his direction. Graham went still, partially out of habit but also from respect for the six-foot span of antlers crowning the animals head. Ulysses considered him for a moment, then went back to wooing the Dodge. If the paint job hadnt already been trashed from this very ritual, Graham would have winced at the sound of antler scraping along the quarter panel.

Movement caught the corner of his eye. A couple were edging toward Grahams truck, phones out as they shared excited whispers. Graham groaned.

Somehow it had gotten around to the tourists up at the Moose Springs Resort that if anyone wanted to see a moose in the wild, they should park out in his tiny diners even tinier parking lot. Which was why Graham started leaving his truck behind the building. Still, the more determined tourists always seemed to find the moose when Ulysses came by.

Hey. Stay back. Graham jerked his head in a curt no as the tourists inched closer, clicking pictures.

At least they didnt have a kid with them. Too many times, Graham had been forced to intervene when someone tried to shove their child on the back of a wild animal. Not a lot of things made him angry, but that always managed to send his blood pressure sky-high.

Hes either going to kill you or date you, Graham warned. Hes got emotional problems.

They were utterly oblivious, which was exactly why Moose Springs had one of the highest rates of human injuries by moose encounter in the entire state of Alaska. Not the animals fault, either. Still, if one of these days the bull moose with a crush on Grahams truck ended up hurting someone, a Fish and Game warden would have to come and either relocate Ulysses or put him down.

Neither of which the moose deserved.

Take a picture of us with him. The womans eyes widened with excitement as her companion continued an endless series of selfies with the oblivious Ulysses in the background.

Hard pass on that. Okay, Ulysses, take a hike, lover boy. Youll have to come back another day.

Graham clapped his hands in warning. He and this moose had known each other for a while, and theyd come to an understanding. Graham wouldnt use rock salt pellets to drive him away if Ulysses didnt trample his customers. The moose stared at Graham in disappointment, glared at the strangers, then grudgingly moved along.

The couple muttered in equal disappointment, but Grahams sympathy was with the moose. The unending influx of tourists tended to ruin Grahams days too.

Behind him, the music grew louder. Someone must have discovered the volume button on the back of the jukebox.

Im going in there. Graham said cheerfully at the couple as he turned to head back into the diner. Try to make good choices.

Visitors to town rarely did. Walking into the unmanned and packed diner only proved Grahams theory.

When Graham opened the Tourist Trap, hed meant the whole thing as a joke. Hed never wanted to sling burgers for a living, much less own his own place. All he wanted was to eat free cheeseburgers behind the counter and choose whatever he wanted to watch on the television in the corner. That and a way to pay his bills while not having to answer to anyone.

For some reason, being a yes-man just wasnt in Grahams genetic makeup.

Unfortunately, yes was the word he said most often these days, followed by asking if someone wanted fries with that. When Graham turned the tiny, run-down pizza joint down the road from Moose Springs Resort into an equally run-down, one-man diner, he assumed it would be the type of place where only locals would eat. The last thing hed expected was for any of the wealthy, entitled tourists to actually go there.