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Another one for my adoring public, heh heh.
I drove through McDonalds to get a salad (they have the best grilled chicken, I don't care how fatty it is), and I had made my order, paid, etc., and was just waiting to get to the second window, get my food, and go.
For the record, you know those little screens that when you order, they show what you ordered? Sometimes if you pull up fast enough, you can see what the person in front of you ordered. This woman (who I swear looked like the love child of Roseanne and Kathy Bates) had ordered ONE double cheeseburger and an iced tea. I saw it for a good ten seconds before the screen reset.
Anyway, she's ahead of me and they hand out her bag and drink. And...she sits there. She sits there. And she sits there. I'm thinking "Okay, maybe she asked for something...maybe she forgot how to move the gears...maybe she's trying to remember how to get back to the funny farm, I don't know." But after four minutes, (timed it) I'm a bit impatient. I'm cool with glancing in the bag to see if everything is there, checking your order, whatever, but she had ONE TINY BURGER. Even if she took the thing out and unwrapped it, she should have been gone before four minutes.
Okay, well, I'm annoyed, but I figure fuck it, I'll crawl out my window and go up and get my food anyway. So I put the car in park, do a Duke-boy shimmy out the open window and as I'm doing this, I can see that the woman is methodically scraping the cheese off her burger. There are ingrediants spread all over the place, lettuce in the cup holder, onions on the dashboard, etc. What. The. Fuck.
So I lean in as best I can and tap on her window, remaining as polite as I can considering I'm playing Spiderman in the drive-thru. "Ma'am, what are you doing?"
She looked up at me, apparently not finding it odd in the least that a chick is dangling halfway off her car. "I'm looking for the spit."
"Um...you're doing what?"
"I'm looking for the spit. I'm sure they spit in my burger and I want to know where it is."
"Did you do something to make them spit in your burger?"
"What do you mean? What would I do??"
"Well...store workers don't normally spit in your food unless you do something to piss them off. So what'd you do?"
"Nothing, but I know THOSE PEOPLE (my emphasis) would spit in my burger so I want to find it."
"Okay, whatever...could you pull up so I can get my food and go? I'm on my way to work."
"But if they spit in my food, they'll spit in your food, too."
(I might interject at this point that I don't know what the McDonalds employees were doing. I guess they were curious about what the hell was going on in their drive-thru but they didn't want to stick their noses in it just yet.)
"I don't particularly care if they spit in my food, now could you please pull up?"
"But-,"
(Uh-oh, Evil Mysty just showed up.)
"IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR CAR OUT OF MY WAY, I'M GOING TO COME IN THERE AND SPIT ALL OVER YOUR BURGER. NOW MOVE."
Lady gasps, drops the cheesey/meaty wad in her lap, and peels out, leaving me to almost fall on my face in the parking lot, while she tears out into the street, cutting off about four cars, and tears down the street so fast her tires squeal.
At this point, a woman's head finally emerges from the second window. "Um, ma'am, what's going on?"
"You don't wanna know. Can I get my salad, please?"
She handed it out, I thanked her, and returned to my car in peace. I probably ought to go by there after I get done here and explain what went on. Man, I mean, I don't like spit, but I'm not THAT paranoid.
I drove through McDonalds to get a salad (they have the best grilled chicken, I don't care how fatty it is), and I had made my order, paid, etc., and was just waiting to get to the second window, get my food, and go.
For the record, you know those little screens that when you order, they show what you ordered? Sometimes if you pull up fast enough, you can see what the person in front of you ordered. This woman (who I swear looked like the love child of Roseanne and Kathy Bates) had ordered ONE double cheeseburger and an iced tea. I saw it for a good ten seconds before the screen reset.
Anyway, she's ahead of me and they hand out her bag and drink. And...she sits there. She sits there. And she sits there. I'm thinking "Okay, maybe she asked for something...maybe she forgot how to move the gears...maybe she's trying to remember how to get back to the funny farm, I don't know." But after four minutes, (timed it) I'm a bit impatient. I'm cool with glancing in the bag to see if everything is there, checking your order, whatever, but she had ONE TINY BURGER. Even if she took the thing out and unwrapped it, she should have been gone before four minutes.
Okay, well, I'm annoyed, but I figure fuck it, I'll crawl out my window and go up and get my food anyway. So I put the car in park, do a Duke-boy shimmy out the open window and as I'm doing this, I can see that the woman is methodically scraping the cheese off her burger. There are ingrediants spread all over the place, lettuce in the cup holder, onions on the dashboard, etc. What. The. Fuck.
So I lean in as best I can and tap on her window, remaining as polite as I can considering I'm playing Spiderman in the drive-thru. "Ma'am, what are you doing?"
She looked up at me, apparently not finding it odd in the least that a chick is dangling halfway off her car. "I'm looking for the spit."
"Um...you're doing what?"
"I'm looking for the spit. I'm sure they spit in my burger and I want to know where it is."
"Did you do something to make them spit in your burger?" "What do you mean? What would I do??""Well...store workers don't normally spit in your food unless you do something to piss them off. So what'd you do?"
"Nothing, but I know THOSE PEOPLE (my emphasis) would spit in my burger so I want to find it."
"Okay, whatever...could you pull up so I can get my food and go? I'm on my way to work."
"But if they spit in my food, they'll spit in your food, too."
(I might interject at this point that I don't know what the McDonalds employees were doing. I guess they were curious about what the hell was going on in their drive-thru but they didn't want to stick their noses in it just yet.)
"I don't particularly care if they spit in my food, now could you please pull up?"
"But-,"
(Uh-oh, Evil Mysty just showed up.)
"IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR CAR OUT OF MY WAY, I'M GOING TO COME IN THERE AND SPIT ALL OVER YOUR BURGER. NOW MOVE."
Lady gasps, drops the cheesey/meaty wad in her lap, and peels out, leaving me to almost fall on my face in the parking lot, while she tears out into the street, cutting off about four cars, and tears down the street so fast her tires squeal.
At this point, a woman's head finally emerges from the second window. "Um, ma'am, what's going on?"
"You don't wanna know. Can I get my salad, please?"
She handed it out, I thanked her, and returned to my car in peace. I probably ought to go by there after I get done here and explain what went on. Man, I mean, I don't like spit, but I'm not THAT paranoid.
at the best of times. It was at this point he decided to help the poor soul in his search. By spitting. Everything was laying just below him. It was an easy shot. 
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