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in the valley of darkness in the shadows of the night rising from the ashes of humanity he lives for honor THE REALM OF THE ROGUE MARINE |
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That Little Grease Monkey Wes Greetings, Today was another boring day, for the most part, of yours truly's life. Since I'm a phone jockey for a call center, my days can sometimes be so crazy it gives me a headache. Today was not one of those days, only have taken seven calls in six hours. Very dead day for me. Seeking a thrill, and a good meal, Nicki and I ventured over to the McDonalds on 10th Ave. South, also the site of the first real job that I held. Despite having it been almost two years since I last worked there, some of my old friends still work there, and the vast majority of them being the night shift crew for the weekends. This includes my friends Wes, Tracy, and my old "boss" Jack. As I pulled up to the drive-thru, I had a devilish though cross my mind. It was eventually my turn to order after having to wait for the three cars in front of me to order. "May I help you?" was the question that came across the speaker, and I immediately recognized that it was my old friend Tracy taking orders. It was time to implement my plans. "Yeah," I replied, "I'd like a #4 with a coke, and a #2 with a coke. And please pay attention here about the #2, it's really important. I would like that #2 without onions, and I don't want that little grease monkey Wes to touch the burgers at all. But if he must, please make sure he wears gloves." It was a moment before I heard a reply, but I knew what had to be going through Tracy's mind. She replied, obviously trying to restrain her laughter, "Is this Chris?" "No, this is the devil. Oh, and we'd like a three-pack of oatmeal cookies." Tracy, still trying to restrain her laughter, announced our total, and we pulled forward to the window to claim our food. Tracys was still laughing as she took our check and handed our food over. "You're in luck, he's not working in the grill tonight," she said. I noticed the little monkey walk past the window, and I saw Lumber-Jack there too. Wes' uniform, tie, and haircut looked similar, so I shot back "Okay, is he trying to be Lumber-Jack's mini-me then?" It was about that time that Wes noticed that I was making fun of him, and he came over, reached out the window and grabbed my coat, and started shaking it. After fending off the beast, telling Tracy to restrain that monkey, put him on a leash or back in his cage, Wes started throwing shit (ketchup packets) at us. Nicki and I pulled away from McD's still laughing about it until we got home. Yes, it is a sad day when this is the highlight of it. "The Taliban have to be asking themselves 'Who let the dogs out?'" - Maj. Gen. Paul Vallely, responing to questions on Fox News Live.
Personal Log, 25 Apr 2004 - 2004-04-25
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