Most of you know my love/hate relationship with Burger King.
TYet, time and time again I go back because they have frozen Cokes and kick ass tacos...mmmmm..I would trade my first born for an endless supply of those fucking tacos.
So, there is this guy who works the drive thru. He's, but really fucking weird. He's nerdy, wears glasses and uses the same corny jokes every single time I go through the damn drive-thu. They just never get old to him.
Today, the conversation went like this...
"Hey, there, pretty lady! I betcha get tired of hearing that, huh?"
Now, I don't answer. I just sit there, smile and wait. I have to because he holds my money hostage until he's gone through his entire goddamn routine. If I try to talk, it only delays my sweet, sweet reunion with the tacos.
"Nah! You don't get tired of it! HAHAHA!"
Pause. Smile. Wait.
"How about this weather? I hear we are suppose to have freezing rain. Will that DAMPEN your spirits? Will it? Dampen? Get it? Dampen?"
I bite my fucking tongue and wait.
"I tried to be a stand-up comedian, but I kept sitting down! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!"
He is practically doubled over with laughter. At least he's nice. However, I'm pretty sure that he goes home at night and boils tiny bunnies.
"Didn't you come through here this morning?"
What? Wait a damn minute! This is new. This isn't part of his routine. This requires participation and I am afraid.
"Umm, no. I try to limit myself to one drive thru a week."
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I could have sworn you came through. What's your name, again?"
I never told him my name. I'm not crazy. I like my spleen right where it is, thank you very much.
"Sue, Sue. Okay. What's my name?"
At this point, he places his hand over his pants as though his name tag is pinned to his dick and he's trying to hide it. He waggles his eyebrows at me. I am fucking stupefied.
Then again, it's not out of the realm of possibilities that his name tag is pinned to his wiener.
I have been in the drive thru for what feels like an fucking hour. It has been, in reality, about 3 minutes.
"I have no idea. I just want my change, my frozen Coke and my damn tacos."
He waggles his brows again.
His hand has not moved.
"You have to guess my name, first!"
"I don't know, fuck. Ben. Joe. James. Larry. Hannibal. Chester."
With flourish, he throws his hand in the air and VOILA! There's a belt buckle the size of my fucking head with the name Eric on it.
ERIC. With motherfucking rhinestones. Bling.
Holy fucking shit.