You follow the agent into the restaurant. She scurries into the restroom and immediately closes herself into a stall. You scurry in after her when you get a chance. What is she doing in there? Changing her disguise? Radioing home base? Peeing? Pooping? Who knows? Wait, wait, she is definitely pooping. Ugh. You better get out of here before she calls for backup. A sign for the new Double Angus Smoke House Burger with Cheese entices you, your mouth starts to water, and in less than five minutes you have forgetten about the potential agent.
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
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
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