mr clean x kfc man (opposites attract)

Mr Clean's Fried Chicken

The smell of greasy chicken filled the air as Mr Clean sat in the dark restaurant. Looking around, Mr Clean realized he was all alone in the restaurant of his complete opposite.

"The food, you can eat it you know?" A voice said that Mr Clean couldn't recognize.

Looking in front of him, Mr Clean saw a plate of deep-fried chicken on the table. It was so unfamiliar to Mr Clean: the grease, the smell, the look, but he couldn't take his eyes off it. As if he was glued to the chair, Mr Clean was unable to move, the smell of the chicken was the only thing he could comprehend. Without control, he reached for the food, closer and closer to making contact...

"Mr Clean!" A co-worker spoke, causing Mr Clean to jolt awake in surprise. "The meeting is over now... are you alright? You slept through the whole thing."

"Yes, sorry about that, I keep having this dream about greasy chicken... you know, from the restaurant down the street," Mr Clean replied.

"Oh that must've been awful. I hope you dream better things tonight." Brenda told Mr Clean as she anxiously twirled her long brown and grey hair with her fingers.

"Uh, yeah... Thanks Brenda."

Brenda giggled to herself; a bit too excited that her co-worker had told her thanks. Mr Clean gave her an odd look before gathering his things, readying himself to leave.

"Are you sure you want to walk home today? It's very stormy outside and I know how much you hate storms. Plus it's been raining for a while so I'm sure there'll be mud everywhere and that's so unclean." Brenda ranted on about the weather to Mr Clean, pointing to the sky outside, concerned for his well being.

"I'll be okay, it's only a few blocks. Have a good evening, Brenda," Mr Clean said with his on-brand clean smile, before heading out the door into the rain that poured outside.

"You too Mr Cleanie!" Brenda shouted causing Mr Clean to cringe at the use of a nickname.

As his co-worker had said, the rain poured outside, coating his usually clean white shirt and bald head with the muck of rainwater and mud that splashed from the ground. A shiver went down Mr Clean's spine when a boom of thunder echoed through the dark parking lot, the noise repeating itself in his brain, over and over. A sigh escaped from Mr Clean's lips as he realized that if he had only swallowed his pride and taken Brenda's offer of a ride, he could've avoided the nightmare of a storm.

"If I stay out here any longer, I'll catch a cold, this is no good," Mr Clean worried, looking around for any sign of a warm building that was open to the public. To his despair, the office had already been locked for the night and all that surrounded the area were closed stores, all except one place; KFC.

Mr Clean took one more glance at the horrid weather before taking a deep breath and stepping into the restaurant with the hope that only underpaid teens with no cares were on their shifts.

The sounds of bells on the door ringing and thunder from the storm filled the small fast food restaurant as Mr Clean entered. After wiping his feet off, Mr Clean grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed Brenda's number.

"Mr Clean? What's wrong?! Are you okay?! Did you get hurt?! Are you sick?!" Brenda panicked on the call.

"Brenda, calm down, I'm just rethinking my walk and asking if your offer is still up," Mr Clean replied, feeling the water from the rain drip from his shirt onto the floor.

"Oh, yes, I'll head over right now! Give me a few minutes and I'll be there... wait, where are you anyways?"

"I'm..." Mr Clean looked to the floor in shame as he felt the dread wash over his body, he: Mr CLEAN, was at a place as dirty and greasy as this, "I'm at KFC."