(no subject)
chicken and dumplin's taste good to my mouth.
last night i got so fucking pissed off. me and eddie were returning from a late night book club meeting (where i had been 'doing some laundry') when i got what the medical world call 'the munchies.' so we pulled into the drive thru of a very popular fast food chain that i regularly bash because i hate there food. but 'laundry' makes you do dumb things and i wanted a spicy chicken like samich. we were having a lovely conversation about one thing or another (most likely our emotions) when i noticed that i had been sitting at the drive thru speaker for five minutes with out so much as a hello from the staff of this fast food giant. 'what the fuck' i ask my amigo 'i think i should pull up to the window.' so i do. and then we proceed to wait for another five minutes behind a mustang waiting for his food. thats right an actuall mustang was getting food. so that jackass leaves (he is a jackass because he was in front of me and i need no other reason) and i pull up to the window where i am greated by a smiling gentleman. this smiled bordered insanity. and i says to him, i says, 'sir i was waiting at your speaker box for some time and i have no fruits to show for my wait. no order was placed and thus no food prepared. one could say that it was a waste of my time to sit there that long and i am tempted to agree with them. then again one could argue that life is a waste of time.' 'too true, kind sir' the smiling man said 'and let me apologize, for our speaker box has been out of commission for sometime and we have as of now a runner with a message on his way to tell the duke of our plight' 'very well, my sword shall not taste your blood this evening' i said to the smiling man. 'i wish to consume two of your finest spicy chicken like samiches. and make them not with pickle or my blades thirst will not go unquenched this night.' 'sir, i must again apologize, for the hour of dinner serving has passed and can only offer you the food of morning.' befuddled was i. how can this be?!!!! this place, founded on the blood of cows, the sweat of the unvoiced, and the bones of all who appose could not make a spicy chicken like samich at the reasonable hour of half passed three?!!! INSANITY!!!! OUTRAGE!!!!! HATE, BILE, SUFFERING!! these words merely scratch the surface of what i was feeling. but the 'laundry' i had done earlier had put me in a mood that favored sleep as much as it favored spicy chicken like samiches. so i promptly beheaded the smiling gentleman and road of into the night, spicy chicken samich-less.
fade to black.
xoxo
justin.
p.s. it was mcdonalds. and 'laundry' is my code for weed.
last night i got so fucking pissed off. me and eddie were returning from a late night book club meeting (where i had been 'doing some laundry') when i got what the medical world call 'the munchies.' so we pulled into the drive thru of a very popular fast food chain that i regularly bash because i hate there food. but 'laundry' makes you do dumb things and i wanted a spicy chicken like samich. we were having a lovely conversation about one thing or another (most likely our emotions) when i noticed that i had been sitting at the drive thru speaker for five minutes with out so much as a hello from the staff of this fast food giant. 'what the fuck' i ask my amigo 'i think i should pull up to the window.' so i do. and then we proceed to wait for another five minutes behind a mustang waiting for his food. thats right an actuall mustang was getting food. so that jackass leaves (he is a jackass because he was in front of me and i need no other reason) and i pull up to the window where i am greated by a smiling gentleman. this smiled bordered insanity. and i says to him, i says, 'sir i was waiting at your speaker box for some time and i have no fruits to show for my wait. no order was placed and thus no food prepared. one could say that it was a waste of my time to sit there that long and i am tempted to agree with them. then again one could argue that life is a waste of time.' 'too true, kind sir' the smiling man said 'and let me apologize, for our speaker box has been out of commission for sometime and we have as of now a runner with a message on his way to tell the duke of our plight' 'very well, my sword shall not taste your blood this evening' i said to the smiling man. 'i wish to consume two of your finest spicy chicken like samiches. and make them not with pickle or my blades thirst will not go unquenched this night.' 'sir, i must again apologize, for the hour of dinner serving has passed and can only offer you the food of morning.' befuddled was i. how can this be?!!!! this place, founded on the blood of cows, the sweat of the unvoiced, and the bones of all who appose could not make a spicy chicken like samich at the reasonable hour of half passed three?!!! INSANITY!!!! OUTRAGE!!!!! HATE, BILE, SUFFERING!! these words merely scratch the surface of what i was feeling. but the 'laundry' i had done earlier had put me in a mood that favored sleep as much as it favored spicy chicken like samiches. so i promptly beheaded the smiling gentleman and road of into the night, spicy chicken samich-less.
fade to black.
xoxo
justin.
p.s. it was mcdonalds. and 'laundry' is my code for weed.