Regarding my trip to “Burger King”
I’ve been spending more time on the surface lately. I do have a vehicle, you know, and in fact I use it quite often. While commiting various acts of heroism and villainy today, I became hungry. Being unfamiliar with filthy surface food, I happened upon the Burger King. I thought to myself, “a king of hamburgers, what a concept!” and entered the establishment.
It was unmodest, crowded in a bad way, and the air smelled of… I suppose it’s grease? I soon became accustomed to the smell, anyway. I assumed its lack of class could be based on its location as a mainstream food chain. Regardless.
I waited in line - and remember, I hate lines - and when it was time to order, I asked what they had. The lady obnoxiously pointed to the menu above her, with its flimsy plastic casing and cheap printed word. Yes, I saw the menu before, but I figured they’d have some sort of special. But no! This place has no specials. They have combos, the primitive word for “combinations”. I ordered a combination 5, because I saw it had a large two-meat burger with bacon and some french fries - which in case you aren’t aware, aren’t even French.
After being robbed with a six-dollar fee for stuffing this abomination into a plastic wrapper, I sat down at this establishment.
Readers: I have once seen tentacles emerge from a man’s throat, slither around his body, and squeeze his organs out of every socket they could come out of. I was unprepared for a fifteen-minute meal at Burger King.
Children screaming everywhere. A fat man eating twice the size of my meal in the booth closest to me, and worse? He was an employee. Were I the owner of this “restaurant”, I’d use him as meat fodder! And there he was, working there! It struck me that perhaps this is the franchise’s mascot, perhaps “the burger king”. I don’t know and I didn’t care to find out, as I wasn’t adoned in my Count Victus Battle Gear and didn’t want to anger the beast.
They have this contraption called the ball pit. You take your hatchlings children to Burger King and eat your meal while they play in this pit of plastic multi-colored balls. I just don’t understand it. There was a little bumper on the entrance to prevent the child from bumping their head too hard when entering. I saw a child bump his head on it twice. Ridiculous. How often do you think he would have hit his head if it were made of small spikes? He rushes in, hurts his head, and understands: take it easy in the ball pit.
I can write no more. I could tell you horrors of the restroom’s sanitation, or even the food I ate, but unfortunately I think the meal is starting to come up on me. Or, perhaps it’s not so unfortunate. Do you folks have any suggestions to eat at when I’m next on the surface?
