Taco Hell

Notice the dark clouds looming nearby. That means Sauron’s forces are on the move. They will reach Taco Bell within the hour, light the beacons. Rohan must be notified.
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Taco Hell

Yesterday, I decided to go to Taco Bell. I entered the establishment and proceeded to the front counter. A burly country dude with the typical redneck goatee, in a uniform that was at least two sizes smaller, emerged from the back. What was he doing back there?

He touched his cash machine and looked at me. “What can I get for you, Boss Man?”

Uh, Boss Man? You don’t know how much I hate when people use nicknames to address me, uh except Semaj. I wanted to grab his grease stained collar and pull him near me and proceed to slam his ugly face on the counter. I’m not your Boss Man, bubba.

I gave him my order.

He gave me my ticket, “Your number is 37, Boss Man.”

Why does he keep calling me that?

Standing near the counter, I took in my surroundings. To my far left, there was a rather large collection of middle-age women sitting together. The amount of noise these women made with their voices can only be likened to a flock of ducks. Must a group of women be so loud? Here’s a wonderful concept, talk in a normal tone ladies. I know you want to be heard and have all the attention toward just you, but save my ears.

I just wanted some tacos people.

So, a Middle Eastern Taco Bell worker came to the counter and said my number. “37, 37?”

Hey that’s my number, yay!

Middle Eastern guy handed me the bag, and said, “Here you go Hommie.”

At that point, I gave up and retreated out of the store with my food, defeated.