/ck/ - Food & Cooking

I finally arrived at my local McDonald's restaurant yesterday evening around 9:50. The lobby closed at ten, and on this particular evening the entire McDonald's was to close at ten for a late night cleaning. I ordered my usual: Sausage McBiscuit and a McChicken, no mayo.

I sat down and began to eat when Simon, the McDonald's manager, a stout gentlemen in his forties, noticed I was dabbing the sausage with a napkin. He mentioned it tastes better without so much grease. I agreed, and said 'i learned this from my Grandfather'. Simon, paused, let out a sigh, and seated himself with me in the booth. It appeared as though i touched on one of Simon's tender points.

He leaned on my arm, an spoke of his sisters approaching nuptials, whence he made several digressions upon the character of woman kind, touched a little on the tender passion, and made sundry very excellent, though rather trite, observations upon disappointments in love. It was evident he had something on his mind which he wished to impart, but felt awkward in approaching it. Here Simon made a pause, began pulling napkins out of the dispenser one by one, carelessly flinging them tot he side, when he asked if I had ever been in love. He did not wait for a reply, however, the inquiry merely being a prelude to a confession on his own part; and after several circumlocutions and whimsical preambles, he fairly dis-burdened himself on a very tolerable story of his having been crossed in love.

I finally arrived at my local McDonald's restaurant yesterday evening around 9:50. The lobby closed at ten, and on this particular evening the entire McDonald's was to close at ten for a late night cleaning. I ordered my usual: Sausage McBiscuit and a McChicken, extra mayo.

I sat down and began to eat when Simon, the McDonald's manager, a stout gentlemen in his forties, noticed I was dabbing the sausage with a napkin. He mentioned it tastes better without so much grease. I agreed, and said 'i learned this from my Grandfather'. Simon, paused, let out a sigh, and seated himself with me in the booth. It appeared as though i touched on one of Simon's tender points.

He leaned on my arm, an spoke of his sisters approaching nuptials, whence he made several digressions upon the character of woman kind, touched a little on the tender passion, and made sundry very excellent, though rather trite, observations upon disappointments in love. It was evident he had something on his mind which he wished to impart, but felt awkward in approaching it. Here Simon made a pause, began pulling napkins out of the dispenser one by one, carelessly flinging them tot he side, when he asked if I had ever been in love. He did not wait for a reply, however, the inquiry merely being a prelude to a confession on his own part; and after several circumlocutions and whimsical preambles, he fairly dis-burdened himself on a very tolerable story of his having been crossed in love.

>>11827017
What were the particulars of this tale I have already forgotten. All that I recollect is, that the lady, according to his account, was certainly a little touched: for she used to accept all the music he had copied for her harp, and all the patterns that he drew for her dresses; and he began to flatter himself, after a long course of delicate attentions, that he was gradually fanning up a gentle flame in her heart, when she suddenly accepted the had of a rich, boisterous, fox-hunting baronet, without either music or sentiment, who carried her by storm, after a fortnights courtship.

Simon could not help concluding by some observation about "modest merit", and the power of gold over sex. As a remembrance of passion, he pointed out a heart carved in one of the booths, but which, in the process of time, had grown out into a large excrescence, and he showed me a lock of her hair, which he wore in a true lovers knot in a large gold brooch.

The moment Simon the Manager had gone through his confession, and, to use the common phrase, "had made a clean breast of it", he became quite himself again. He had settled the point which had been worrying his mind, and doubtless considered himself established as a man of sentiment in my opinion. Before I had finished my McChicken, he was singing blithe as a grasshopper; and I recollect he was particularly facetious with his crew at closing, and uttered several excellent jokes, not to be found in Joe Miller, that made the female coworker blush and look down, but set all the gentlemen of the crew in a roar, and absolutely brought tears to the assistant managers eyes.

I finally arrived at my local McDonalds restaurant yesterday evening around 9:50. The lobby closed at ten, and on this particular evening the entire McDonalds was to close at ten for a late night cleaning. I ordered my usual: Sausage McBiscuit and a McChicken, no mayo.

I sat down and began to eat when Simon, the McDonalds manager, a stout gentlemen in his forties, noticed I was dabbing the sausage with a napkin. He mentioned it tastes better without so much grease. I agreed, and said 'i learned this from my Grandfather'. Simon, paused, let out a sigh, and seated himself with me in the booth. It appeared as though i touched on one of Simon's tender points.

He leaned on my arm, an spoke of his sisters approaching nuptials, whence he made several digressions upon the character of woman kind, touched a little on the tender passion, and made sundry very excellent, though rather trite, observations upon disappointments in love. It was evident he had something on his mind which he wished to impart, but felt awkward in approaching it. Here simon made a pause, began pulling napkins out of the despenser one by one, carelessly flinging them tot he side, when he asked if I had ever been in love. He did not wait for a reply, however, the inquiry merely being a prelude to a confession on his own part; and after several circumlocutions and whimsical preambles, he fairly dis-burdened himself on a very tolerable story of his having been crossed in love.

>get high as fuck one night
>head down to McDonald’s at 1:00 in the morning
>order 2 double quarter pounders and a Grand Mac and 1 large sprite and 2 large fries
>pull up to payment
>skinny Lanklet soy boy at the window
>“that will b-be 10.99 s-sir“
>Hand him the money
>his hands are fucking shaking and spills all the money
>“s-sorry I’ll get th-that for you“
>I just sit there in my car and make him pick up the money he dropped
>walks fucking weird
>trying to hold in my laughter, soy boy is spilling his spaghetti all over
>squeezes his skeleton looking body between my car and the window to pick it up
>runs back to the window like a faggot
>grab my food
>laugh the whole fucking way back to my house