I spent too long working around the house trying to catch up on some house work and prepare for the possibility of hurricane Dorian hitting us while the wife was at work yesterday. I laid out chicken for some cordon bleu but it was too little too late and hadn't thawed out in time for supper. I set off for the local Toxic Smell since it was four blocks away, quick and cheap. I have noticed it becoming disproportionately darker compared to the the parish populace in the past few months. I think they must be busing them in under some fast food desegregation program. Nevertheless, I simply didn't have time, energy or desire to go anywhere else. I should have known better.
Strike One:
2130 Hours. Arrived at store. Lobby hours end in thirty minutes. Lobby found locked. Saw fat teenigger on his Ifoam sitting in a booth in the dining room. He heard me rattle the door and approached only to tell me the that “We had to lock dem dowuz cuz owahh cumputuz be downz rat nowuhz but dey should be back ups in a few minutes an we gonna open back ups den.” This is no doubt what happens when you allow them to look up inter-species porn on the company network. Lay down with dogs, get up with fleas. Lay down or log in with niggers, wake up with viruses. I begrudgingly left to come back later.
Strike two
2150 Hours: Doors still locked but drive thru is open with no cars at the marquee where I was assured that the computaz was back up and working right. Too bad the teeniggers weren't.
Strike three
2155: I hate using the drive thru because they always screw it up and true to form, these teenigs sure as hell did. Humans can hardly understand ebonics. Niggers don't understand simple English. Throw an intercom into the mix and you've got a recipe for failure. Yes, I spent five minutes at the drive thru trying to order 4 items only to be told finally that they didn't have any shredded chicken. Substitute the damn thing then. In baseball, They would be out by the third strike but...
Strike four
2200: Yep, now I'm stuck and at the mercy of the line.After another wait at the window with a car in front which I couldn't see from the other side of the building, and now locked in line from behind as well, Sheniggerella tells me “Dattuh beez nineteenz ninenuhh tree.” I very begrudgingly hand her a twenty while adding up in my head what should have been a $14 order. I then notice the strong odor of weed wafting from the kitchen. I thought to myself, this isn't going to get any better.
Stike five
2205: “We sorreez but we aint gots no potaytoes fo yo buhh reetow owedahh.” By this time I was ready to loose it. I told them to just cancel the damned order and give me my money back. Another sheniglet shows up and I hear her off to the side bitching because they had started making it. Tough shit.
I should have never let them get past strike one. My mistake for letting it happen in the first place. I drove up the road to Dominoes where a friendly human manager took my order which was then promptly prepared by humans. They got it right and had me back on the road home in less than ten minutes.
Got to go now. Got something I have to take care of. Time to forward this post onto Taco Bell Corporate.
