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Welcome to Wendy’s
“Fuck it,” Jay cursed under
his breath. The line at Wendy’s was damn near coming down the stairs and out
the front door and into the street. You would think with everyone on a health
food kick these days that the lunch lines to these fat farms around the country
would have shortened, but the taste for beef and greasy fries were still in
great demand. He fidgeted back and
forth, seemingly unsure of what to do next so he absent-mindedly jingled some
coins in his pocket. Hunger was a
chipmunk burrowing a hole through his stomach. He didn’t know how these
freaking kids in
Tall and lanky, Jay towered over the short fat girl in front of him.
Every few seconds, her head would tilt upward to gaze lovingly at the
surrounding menus and a crazed smile would cross her fat chubby face.
Jay was certain that if a live cow walked through the doors of Wendy’s
at this exact second, fat girl would wrestle it to the ground and bite into it
like a piece of fried chicken. In her state of her hunger, she would probably
mistake the cow for a chicken. The cow, too startled to react would stand there
in silence before finally realizing that half her side was gone and she was
doing her best imitation of a window allowing air to pass through her. The other
customers, paying homage to the mob mentality would join in this feast of the
absurd, until all that was left was the sign around the cow’s neck: Got Milk.
The line kind of reminded Jay of the Soup Nazi episode from Seinfeld;
before you could actually pick up your food from the counter, there was a
‘pre-order’ person taking your order to facilitate your lunchtime
experience. In theory, it was supposed to speed up the conga line, but as is
always the case; the term fast food seems to only apply to the food and not the
assholes that never seem know what they want to eat for lunch. You can spot them
at any of your artery clogging fast food place staring intently at the menu- as
if they are foreigners and the concept of a combo meal is just too hard to
grasp. It’s just a fucking
variation of a combo meal that you can order to super-size your already
fattening ass. Jay took a quick look around the line without so much as turning
his head. The beauty of wearing dark shades is that people more than likely know
that you’re looking at them, and judging them behind the sanctuary of your
shades. But because they can’t see your eyes and be certain of what you’re
looking at-they can’t say shit to you. Shades give you asshole immunity.
You can always pretend you’re sleeping if some brave asshole gets up
the nerve to challenge you. Everyone on the train or bus will think they’re an
asshole for screaming at a sleeping person.
Once they take their seats again, you can continue your mind games and
drive the poor bastard crazy with your eyes they can’t see, but they know
you’re watching them like Corey Hart behind those dark sunglasses
Damn I’m hungry! Jay’s stomach relayed the obvious message to his
brain, that it had been neglected for far too long. Fatgirl was up to order and
even though she had memorized the menu by now-she was still unsure of what she
wanted to order. Just order everything I could always hear the hungry customers
in the back of me thinking in concert. Finally she decided on a triple-decker
burger of beef with fries and a soda.
“Would you like to super-size it,” the order person said to Fatgirl.
The question seemed unnecessary in light of the triple-decker being already
obese. What the hell would a super-sized triple-decker look like?
She nodded head in agreement to the clerk’s rhetorical question and
took one step forward to the feast that was awaiting her.
“Welcome to Wendy’s. May I help you?” Josh said in a robotic voice.
He had no interest in helping me and his tone was less than welcoming. Under his
Wendy’s hat, he wore a doo-rag to keep his waves looking beautiful on his
head. He was nodding his head up and down singing a rap song that every few
seconds was punctuated with the obligatory hoes and bitches that is needed in
every song to make them catchy these days. His name tag said Josh and he looked
like a Josh-arrogant and condescending. He wore the look of someone who believed
he deserved better in life than being a cashier at Wendy’s. When Fatgirl
ordered her meal, the obvious look of repulsion and disdain was written all over
his face, but she either didn’t notice or worse, pretended to be oblivious to
the stares and comments of people. At least I had the decency to hide my
repulsion for people like Fatgirl and took pity on her fat ass as she waddled
out of breath to the cashier. One more super-sized meal could be the death of
her. At least, she would croak with a burger in her stomach, fries hanging from
her lips, and a Diet Coke in her hand.
The heat being generated by all the dead cows being fried made Jay even
hungrier. He inhaled the aroma of
food breathing in the air through his nostrils and swallowed it, but it was just
scented air, like food perfume, and his stomach rejected it with a loud angry
rumble that only he could hear. Why
do I let myself get so hungry that it feels like I’m going to pass out from
freaking hunger and feelings of food rage overwhelm my mind? Jay rummaged
through his pockets hoping to find a piece of old gum to stave off his hunger,
but he had no such luck today. Fatgirl was stuffing her fat face a few feet
away, and Jay had half a mind to march over there and rip the triple-decker from
her grubby hands. She would probably have karated his bony ass to death and gone
right back to eating. He was better off waiting in line so that’s where he
stayed until his thoughts were interrupted by a homeless woman barging her way
to the front of the line.
These fucking homeless people always pissed him off.
Didn’t they have any pride? Grown men and women begging for spare
change and living off the sweat of other hard working people when they could be
working to earn an honest dollar infuriated him to no end. Get a job! Everyone
screamed this sentiment internally like a choir hitting the high note at a
church recital. Not being a mind
reader, the homeless black woman made her way to each waiting customer not
asking for money, but instead wanting a Frosty on this hot summer day to cool
her off. Everyone pretended to look
away at some sort of invisible object in the distance, turned up the volume on
their iPods and the rest blatantly lied, saying they didn’t have any money as
they waited to pay for their food with their designer purses and bulging wallets
in their back pockets.
She seemed better off than most of the smelly homeless people Jay had
become used to seeing and smelling everyday in the subways of
“Mr., can you buy me a Frosty?” Jay looked at her and he could feel
the muscles of his face contorting into an ugly scowl of hate, but because she
didn’t stink and wasn’t half bad to look at; he allowed the muscles in his
face to soften into a weird tight smile.”
“I’ve already ordered my food,” Jay pointed to order taker on the
other end so I can’t buy you a Frosty. Sorry.”
“They know me in here. Just tell Jesenia it’s for me and she will add
it to your bill,” the last thing Jay wanted to do on his lunch hour was get
into a debate with the homeless about a $1Frosty. He relented and added the
Frosty to his bill. He felt like a sucker because everyone else had the sense to
ignore her, and he was the one who ended up having to splurge for a $1 Frosty.
He grabbed the Frosty by the top and she grabbed it from the bottom. He made
sure not to touch her filthy hands and brushed by her without a word.
She yelled a thank you but he didn’t bother to turn back to acknowledge
her. She was already making the rounds again asking for someone else to buy her
some fries to go with her Frosty. Another lunchtime with
“Welcome to Wendy’s,” he heard Josh greet another customer as the
door slowly shut behind him, and he headed back to work.
Jéan-Pierre,
Dean
Copyright
© www.deanthepoet.com
(The
thought behind this piece was just a way of capturing some of the random
thoughts that most of us have, but don’t give a voice to them. It doesn’t
necessarily mean that you feel this way, but when you’re constantly inundated
with certain images on a daily basis, your compassion lessens and you have to
readjust the thoughts that infiltrate your mind.)