Running about your day and start feeling hungry, where do you go? Fast food, it’s everyone’s go to for a quick bite. You pull up to the drive through, take a peek at the menu, know what you want? No? Then this is all about you shit-for-brains.
Every time I pull up to the drive thru I have a pretty good idea of what I want, this is not some fancy five-star restaurant with a extensive menu of delicacies. This is a fucking burger shack where some snot nosed sixteen year old fuck bag is going to pull a slab of almost meat out of the microwave slap it onto a bun and shove it in a brown sack.
So when I get in line and I see you hem and fucking haw about what kind of sub-par food you plan to slob down, I just want to fucking throat punch you. You have two real options here, chicken or beef. THAT’S FUCKING IT! One would think that while you sat there staring at the menu you would get some god damned clue as to what you plan to slam down your gullet. NOPE! You still insist on telling the little box to “Hold on a minute please.”
I can only assume at this point that with your head stuffed out the window, craning your neck to see the menu, that you were only pretending you knew how to fucking read. Even this does not excuse this particular brand of jack-assery, there are fucking pictures!
Now we get to the point where you do in fact begin to order your slop. I listen as you order six double cheese burgers, a pound of french fries, a barrel full of milk shakes, and two pallets of apple pie. WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?! This whole time, were you sitting there coming up with the quantity? Were you working out the weight of the pallets versus how much your car could hold? I can only wonder.
So let’s wrap this up,
The next time you are in line at the drive thru and can’t decide what you want, think of me, think of this page, and don’t be a fucking fat burger bastard.
Need more time to think on what an asshole I am? Tell it to the fucking turtle.