Bah, the line is already out the door. This is bullshit. How are you supposed to eat a Double Angus Smoke House Burger with Cheese if you have to wait twelve minutes? It's okay, you've been telling people you're Buddhist, so this is a good test. Follow the eight fold path to a biggie meal.
Eventually, you get your food. You spread out on the little table, Biggie Root Beer, Biggie French Fries, a Frostie Jr., your big ass burger, and a few extra Honey Mustards for dipping. Mmmm, is there anything in life more enjoyable than your first French Fry?
Wait, what the fuck? What is this mushy trash? What kind of self-respecting worker would serve this garbage? Do they expect me to suffer through this? Hell no. Hell no.
Ask for new ones
Make a mess.
Yes, it's the perfect form for surviving a car crash. But it's also the perfect form for so much more, like surviving the trauma of reading any news headline in 2016.
It's just a little confusing, is all.
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