Lovin’ It Up Nasty

The other Saturday, I was pretty busy taking the boys around to their basketball games, so we opted suicide in hitting the drive through at Mickey D’s for lunch.  You know how we’re all real suckers for health food!  It was in that drive through that we had a most interesting experience.  

Some McGenius had a great idea some years ago when they created the double drive through lanes at Ronald’s House of Gastric Sadness.  They created a way to boost profit by allowing more people to put their orders in during rush periods and get to their nasty food almost as quickly without getting frustrated from waiting in a long line and leaving before they order.  It sounds like a good idea until you factor in the problem that those two lanes have to squeeze back down to one in order to pay and then get your lukewarm bags of 11-year-old, ultra-GMO, freeze dried, smashed-in  meh.  

After ordering my boys all of their “food” which would have little nutrition of the original options placed between the buns, I started to ease forward to get in the line to pay.  Still at odds that I’m actually paying for this stuff.  In my new country, I’m surprised Obama doesn’t just make everyone pay for $40 of McDonald’s every day, and have $7 of it delivered right to their door like the morning paper.  Might as well, that’s what it tastes like right?  Anyway, a fat disgruntled Turd Muffin in a little car cuts me off and gets in line in front of me.  I was pretty irritated.  I had obviously started moving first.  Oh well, maybe he didn’t see me, as the poor way in which this double lane was built, there was a serious blind spot for him being in the outside lane.  It’s all the easier for me to hate him because he looks like such a low-life reflection of myself, but I choose not to honk, shake my fist, or anything of the like.  Because my food will be just as nasty when I get it, and waiting an extra minute won’t make it taste any better, Heaven forbid.  

That moment I decided to accept my defeat and prepare to be the next one in line was when things got interesting though.  Suddenly in my side view mirror, I see the door fly open of the car behind me, and with lightning speed, a man coming up to my window, kicking up wet snow as he throws his arms about, shaking his head in disbelief.  He had beady brown eyes and long thinning salt and pepper hair with slight balding.   He was wearing penny loafers, khaki pants, and a red knitted sweater pulled over a striped white dress shirt. I rolled my window down cause he certainly had something to say to me.  I didn’t feel threatened though.  This man in his middle ages and smaller size had no fear to offer anyone.  He spoke to me with a tone similar to that of the older brother of a friend to a kid who’s being threatened by a bully on the schoolyard and said, “Did that guy cut you off, or did you just let him in?!”  

Before I had a chance to answer, he tears off toward the offending motorist with the same intensity and begins yelling at him and shaking his fist.  I’m starting to think my new friend might be intoxicated with some illegal substance other than weed judging by the flighty way he moves about, but all I can do is watch and laugh.  I knew he couldn’t inflict anything serious on big uncle Turd Muffin, so I didn’t get out to break it up.  Me and all three boys instantly had front-row seats to our own private showing of Jerry Springer, so we settled in for the feature.  He explosively told the guy he really messed up by cutting me off and not waiting his turn, and threw in hefty triple servings of profanity (which my kids could have done without).  With the boisterous way he spouted off having little to back it up with, as well as his accent, I could tell he wasn’t from this area.  Those of us from my neck of the woods take threats from strangers more seriously and save them for more dire circumstances when we’re ready to send someone to the hospital.  He waved me off as turned back to his own car at 2/3 original strength, muttering under his breath.  The boys and I were tearyeyed, red in the face, and much-so short of breath with fatigued stomach muscles as we rolled forward to take our punishment from the drive thru window that morning!  

     

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