tenth glamour
[Nancy is a woman on a mission.
She's hungry, simply put, and making her way down toward the kitchen, journal in hand.]
You know what this place needs?
A fucking In-N-Out.
If you don't know what that is, you have not truly lived, and I kind of feel sorry for your ass. And now you're thinking, "Shit! What the fuck is missing from my miserable existence?" I will tell you.
In-N-Out is a fast food restaurant. And it's not like McDonald's or Burger King of whatever the hell other chains there's a shitton of. Those places don't even hold a candle. They get their frozen french fries on truck every other day just like their patties, and they crank out processed food to feed to the masses because it's convenient and those people don't know any better. Even if the Chicken McNuggets are pretty good.
This fast food place makes all their food right there in front of those giant windows for everyone to see. They dice their potatoes right in front of you. That is how fresh they are.
And yeah, okay. I could easily wish up some right now. But that doesn't include the experience of waiting in a crowded place with fifty other hungry people waiting for their number to be called like it's the fucking SuperLotto, or like Bob Barker's gonna call you down because you're the next contestant. And it certainly doesn't include those paper hats the employees wear that they give you if you ask for one.
Fuck, I really miss that place--
[It's at this point that Nancy has made her way down to the kitchen, yanks open the refrigerator door, and an endless sea of brightly colored eggs begins to pour out from within. The sound is loud, much like a waterfall of plastic, and they pool onto the floor and around her feet until she is knee deep in easter eggs.]
You have got to be kidding me.
She's hungry, simply put, and making her way down toward the kitchen, journal in hand.]
You know what this place needs?
A fucking In-N-Out.
If you don't know what that is, you have not truly lived, and I kind of feel sorry for your ass. And now you're thinking, "Shit! What the fuck is missing from my miserable existence?" I will tell you.
In-N-Out is a fast food restaurant. And it's not like McDonald's or Burger King of whatever the hell other chains there's a shitton of. Those places don't even hold a candle. They get their frozen french fries on truck every other day just like their patties, and they crank out processed food to feed to the masses because it's convenient and those people don't know any better. Even if the Chicken McNuggets are pretty good.
This fast food place makes all their food right there in front of those giant windows for everyone to see. They dice their potatoes right in front of you. That is how fresh they are.
And yeah, okay. I could easily wish up some right now. But that doesn't include the experience of waiting in a crowded place with fifty other hungry people waiting for their number to be called like it's the fucking SuperLotto, or like Bob Barker's gonna call you down because you're the next contestant. And it certainly doesn't include those paper hats the employees wear that they give you if you ask for one.
Fuck, I really miss that place--
[It's at this point that Nancy has made her way down to the kitchen, yanks open the refrigerator door, and an endless sea of brightly colored eggs begins to pour out from within. The sound is loud, much like a waterfall of plastic, and they pool onto the floor and around her feet until she is knee deep in easter eggs.]
You have got to be kidding me.