Tuesday, January 25, 2005

The Fast Food Gods Hate Me

I had a meeting at the end of the world today, a.k.a. Fort Worth, a.k.a. 54 miles away one way from my house. It was a good meeting and I'm thinking it will be worth all that time in rush hour traffic and the gas. However, on my way home, it got to the point where I hadn't eaten in three hours, and that meant I was starving. And all of a sudden, an apple pie from Whataburger was what I wanted. I told myself that I would wait until I got to the one that was in The Colony near my house.

Well, after speeding there and running over three old ladies, two dogs and a squirrel, I managed to make it just as my eyes were bulging out of my head. And that's when something really strange happened.

I took the first bite of my junior burger and a clump of mustard landed on the collar of my white jacket. A few bites later and just about all of the toppings had landed in my lap, meaning that my crotch will permanently smell like a mix of onions and lettuce.

But then the apple pie attacked me. I don't know what temperature the pies are when Whataburger finishes frying them, but it must be close to the temperature of the Earth's core. Because it took me about 10 minutes to devour my burger, pick off the toppings from my lap and then inhale my large order of onion rings.

Yet, even 10 minutes after receiving my order, I took the first bite of the apple pie and permanently injured my tongue, which now ressembles a burnt piece of beef brisket. Just as I was silently screaming at the searing pain, a glob of filling landed on my lap, scarring me for life and apple filling permanently becoming attached to my thigh flesh. I tried to blow on the demon pie, but unfortunately that caused another drop of filling to latch onto my chin, making me dangerously swerve off the road as I screamed at it to get off me with my arms flailing in the air. Despite ignoring the pie for close to five minutes, the next bite made my lower lip automatically blister, a glob attacked my left wrist and another squirt of filling the size of a large slug launched itself next to the mustard stain on my jacket, to ensure that I could never wear this outfit again.

I don't understand what went so wrong. All I wanted was to eat. Instead, I received enough third degree burns to warrant a trip to the hospital. My favorite jacket is ruined and my jeep will forever be stained by this incident.

Enough to say that you won't catch me eating fast food again for a while. I need to heal first.

Love,

Catwoman.

2 comments:

SirTalksALot said...

You're cracking me up! Some nights after too much drinking I end up at White Castle. The next day I find mustard, ketchup, and onions all over my car, me, and anything else in the vicinity. Why don't fast food places give out bibs?

Your dream blog reminded me of my Dolly Parton dream: http://talk2mebaby.blogspot.com/2005/01/dream-little-dream-fordolly.html

Slinky Cat said...

Oh that really made my day reading your entry, that was hilarious. I can identify, since chocolate has an inexplicable affinity for any white tops which I can wear.