Maynard is 22. Maynard ain’t got no car. Maynard must eat to subsist, so, his father routinely bootscoots to Mickey D’s for “a large French Frie, two PLAIN double-cheeseburgers, with a lotta ketchup.”
Victor, he’s 22, get on with it. Tell him to fend for himself. Ahm, I know, there’s hella more to story. One, his dad’s a big whimp. Two, he’s currently involved in a $3500 obligation, so there just ain’t enough funds there to buy car, drive himself. Three, you’d have to know him.
Four, momma is absent, scroll to #1. Five, I got’s one car, I ain’t insuring him. Six, he pays for his own food (and rent.)
There are MANY nights “please mister custer, I don’t wanna go-oh-ohhhh, oh ohhhhhhh.” But I do. Usually, when I’m in a hurry, 17 other residents have decided to occupy the two drive up “test your personality” lanes too. She-it. Damnit Jim.
Today, ‘twasn’t so bad. In fact, I had free reign to the speaker. Just then, this little snotnose entered the “do not enter” exit from Mickey D's, cranked a hairpin turn right infronta me to be first on the outer lane. His little bitty 40 mile per gallon car had the the turning radius of an ant. Bastard.
I considered backing up, going to the inside lane - woulda been a sonofabitch if another car came, then I’d be 3rd when I was really 1st. Car coming in rear view mirror. Didn’t. He went around, guess he’d already gotten food, and I forgot about inside lane thingy again.
Snotnose finishes order, bootscoots up. I pullup. Jim Hendrix is playing. Loud. We usedta, Victor you’re weird, go over to Weagley’s house as kids and take turns listening to Hendrix with one paira headphones. Sacrificing turning Jimi down plays big, but I did. GD it (gosh darn it) it’s raining.
Uh huh, into the inside lane comes heap big Lincoln Navigator. GD it (gosh darnit) I'M SUPPOSED TO BE SECOND! We had a discussion at work the other day. Bigass Lincoln Navigator drives up, typical sales-looking dude gets out, we all think aloud “whatverinthehell he’s selling, don’t buy it, there’s obviously too mucha markup." Back to the potential of being third at Mickey D’s.
Obviously, whomever completes their order first has “I was done before you were” right away to pull up next after snotnose turn on a dime 40mpg kid. As the rain pelted my forearm, and got the left sidea my body drenched, in my best (worst) “Biff” (Back to the Future) impersonation (“I’ll be damned if that rich bitch orders before me”) said “HELLOOO?”… Silence (is not golden).. Further proving my idiocy “IT’S RAINING!”… again Simon, The Sounds of Silence. I hear the Lincoln ordering. GD it (gosh darn it.)
Finally, this friendly Mickey D probably 17-ish little girl says very nicely “Hi! May I take your order please?” I’m reasonably calm. Human, but reasonably calm. If I, the mostly reasonably calm one, “Biff-ed” out at her… I’m certain she’d been “Biff-ed” out many times in her “Oh boy I gotta job” term at Mickey D’s. She stays upbeat, me, the mostly calm one, had shown my ass. Sorry. So sorry.
About this time, Lincoln edges up, snotnose 40mpg illegal turn sumbitch still in the way. So I says “Hi, I’d like a large French Fry and two double cheeseburgers plain.” My folks were theatric. In fact, formed the local Civic Theater Group whilst chit-chatting with a friend on the porch swing of our house. I loved sports. They never pushed me in sports, but I hella heard “come… be in onea our plays.” No way Jose. After being asked this 76 times over a four year span, when asked the 77th time, in my best Alvin impersonation said “OOOOOOKKKKKKKKK”. So I was. Hehe. A deaf mute. For real. True. Deathly afeareda not memorizing lines, I pleased both worlds. Mine, theirs. But I was in it GD it (gosh darn it). Point being here, I could go on stage with no fear and recite “yes, I’d like a large French fry and two plain double-cheeseburgers please.” If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it 683 times.
Done. Inched up. Rich bitch and I still awaiting snotnose to pull up. Finally he does. Reason sat in. I was third, “drive-thru honor.” Now,rich bitch, who wasn’t a bitch at all I learn - doesn’t pull forward - knowing full well I was “the real 2nd place” (GD it, [gosh darn it] little does she know I was really FIRST.).. She waits, nicely, to allow me to pull up.
Again, returning to reasoned calmness, I waived “nah, it’s ok, you finished ordering before I did, please go ahead.” I was the Biff at the enda the movie. (Scroll WAY up to #1, Maynard’s dad is a "whimp.”)
As I rolled up my window, I cranked the volume back up to listen to the remainder of All Along the Watchtower… ‘ceptin by now it was a seamless siding commercial. She-it. Oh well.
Perky 17 yr old who for sure had been talked to rottenly by chums such as me (and worse) smiles - and says “that’ll be $4.07 please.” I had the exact change awaiting.
Get to window number two. Nuther little chicky smiles, and I say “AND I WANT” (and before I could finish - it was as if I’d walked into the ‘joint’ and my Miller Lite was poured awaiting me before my butt hit the stool) she interrupted (nicely) and finished my sentence “a LOT of ketchup please.” Yes. She smiled, I smiled. Déjà vu.
So Victor. You really go thru this (often) on behalfa your no car having son? Yes, yes I do.
Is he thankful when you hand him his food? Yeah… he really is.. Always says “thanks pops.”
And always says “they NEVER fill up my Large French Fry box.” Hey, it’s 7 blocks to Mickey D’s, imagine that. It’s (scroll to #1) just my little way to “get back” kinda-sorta.
As u travel thru the two lanes of personality tests in life, don’t fuckup like I did. Be a better person. On the way home, I’d remembered I’d read about a soldier honored posthumulously with The Medal of Honor (Military’s Highest Honor) after he’d jumped ontoppa a grenade in Iraq to save his four buddies from same fate. And I’d behaved as Biff in the two lane personality test because of snotnose, rich bitch, rain, and not hearing Jimi. (I can hear him, but do I listen… and yes, I’m white, can’t jump)…
Life’s (really not) a bitch, and thenya pee ur pants and forget your name. Man, they put just the right amount of salt on those fries. Happy day, love, Victurd.
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