Thursday, January 18, 2007

Fastfood Inflatulation

Already paid for the value meal, sitting at window number two...the window of choice...the one where food is supposed to magically appear. I'm semi-politely told that it'll be a few minutes since they are waiting on fresh meat. (ok I have to kill another cow, dress it, grind it, grill it, and place it in the bun - how long could that take?). All while this is happening, the people that were behind me in line are at window number one, the window that unceremoniosly takes your money for the priveledge of advancing to window number two.
The radio station that was on, plays anything and everything...that's their tag line." We Play Anything". A song came on that I heard while at a Jr. High dance, the first time I slow danced with a girl...and subsequently the first girl I had a really healthy snog with. My mind wandered for a few moments remembering that time 18yrs ago-ish. The deep fry grease morphed to smell like Exclamation! perfume and more vividly, like Kari M.. I was Blankly staring into the automatic window lost 18yrs ago. The headset girl looked back at me like I was infatuated, said something, but the window was closed. (She was probably taking the order of a person yet to be behind me. yeah....that's what she was doing: or maybe she was telling the person next in line that some monkey was staring at her as if he knew her in a vacant sort of way, and had a half stack in his pants. Bullseye laaaaaady!)
I snapped back to the realization that people at window number one were getting bags of food.... that's not supposed to happen, at least not 5 times. It's obvious to me that no-one else ordered anything with a beef product in it. A bunch of chicken eatin' skippin' protocol M-F'ers..they all pulled around me, making the person behind them back-up a bit to let them squeeze by. I could have pulled up a bit, but I was waiting for them to butcher the cow...and couldn't fathom the idea of it finally being ready and me not in a position to capitalize expeditiously. (time lapse 15min)
I finally got my cow, and returned to work to savor my feast. When I opened the bag (contrary to what you might be thinking) it had the correct meal in it. Although it wasn't the most beautiful fact it was quite possibly the poorest. My triple cheese burger wasn't fully wrapped in the paper, and the buns didn't line up, it looked like Pac-man barfing up three burger pattys, the condiments more or less were on the outside of the bun.....and "IT WAS COLD".
In retrospect, they probably saw me staring at the window girl when I was daydreaming and thought "to hell with the fresh meat, this psycho is going to go postal if we don't get him his damned burger" so they went with the piecemeal stuff laying around to create my quasimoburger to get me out of the line.
Maybe I should bring my own cow next time, a bouquet of flowers, and a sign that says freak hanging around my neck.

I couldn't locate any images of poorly constructed dismal looking hamburgers. I did find a 15lb. burger that looked tasty, not tasteless, with a large man wearing a yellow helmet.

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