06/27/2025
I'm honored to have been served - The Last Burger Ever at Goofy’s Pool Room
There’s a certain kind of magic in small-town places.
Not the kind built on lights and stages, but the kind that grows from cracked floors, squeaky boards, familiar laughter, and grease-stained air.
Goofy’s Pool Room in Leslie County was one of those places.
It wasn't just a pool hall or a burger joint.
It was a living, breathing part of the community, and for me, it was home to a thousands of days and nights of memories that will be tattooed into my heart.
I still remember the first time my dad took me there.
He parked the old truck with cattle bars in the bed of it outside, the scent of wood stain and furniture polish still clinging to his clothes from a long morning at the store.
With a grin, he opened the door to Goofy’s like he had done a thousand times before.
The bell above the entrance jingled, and inside, the sound of pool balls cracking against each other echoed through the walls like music. He looked at me and said, “Best burgers in town, hands down.”
And he wasn’t wrong.
I don’t know if it was the perfectly grilled patty or the way the grease soaked just right into the bun, but after that first bite, I was hooked.
That burger became a ritual, a bridge between generations.
Dad and I would sit at our regular booth, nodding to Goofy behind the counter, always wearing that iconic Goofy hat from Disney World, ears bouncing with every laugh. And just behind him, Shirley, sweet as ever, she would smile wide and call out,
“My babies are here!” She made sure we felt it too, every single time.
No matter how busy the place got, Shirley always made sure we were served first, slipping us our favorites with a wink and a laugh. And somehow, every time, she packed more French fries into the carry-out box than physics should have allowed.
It wasn’t just a meal, it was love wrapped in paper and ketchup-stained napkins.
When I started working at the furniture store, lunch at Goofy’s became part of the daily routine.
The whole crew would pile in, laughing about the morning’s work and already making bets on the afternoon’s pool games.
The air was always thick with the scent of burgers, goofy meals, and chili, laughter bouncing between the pool tables, and the blips and beeps of old arcade games echoing from the back corner.
It didn’t matter what kind of day you were having, Goofy’s always made it better.
But the memory that stays with me the most is from a time when I didn’t have much to offer.
Life had thrown its weight on my shoulders, bills, hardship, heartache and I found myself scraping by, trying to hold things together.
One day, I walked into Goofy’s, hungry but with nothing in my pocket but lint and hope. Before I could even explain, Goofy slid a burger across the counter and said, “You eat first. Worry later.”
And he did that every day. Quietly, without a second thought. That man fed me until I could stand on my own again, no questions, no judgment, just kindness.
And now, as I sat here enjoying my final bites of the final burger ever served at Goofy’s, I could barely swallow past the lump in my throat.
Not because it didn’t taste the same, it did, every bit as perfect as I remembered, but because I knew it was the last time I’d feel that familiar comfort in this place.
The pool balls were silent now.
The tables covered.
The arcade games dark and still.
A monument of Leslie County, a beating heartbeat of the town, had now come to an end. And it hurts.
But as I wiped my hands and leaned back in my chair at home this time, and for the last time enjoying Goofy’s iconic burger.
I smiled through the tears.
Because Goofy’s wasn’t just a place.
It was people.
It was memories.
It was community.
It was love served with fries, goofy meals, and a side of laughter.
And as long as we remember it, it never really closes.
I love you all, and I'm heartbroken my favorite burger place is closing it's doors.
I hope you are able to enjoy the life that's ahead.
✌️😎✌️
