YkDonald's

YkDonald's Chapter 1: New on the Job

Hey, guys. 

Not that anyone really cares, but my name's Rory. I'm a teenager, that's all you need to know. It feels weird saying your age on the internet, yeah? Lotta weirdos on there. I told ONISM I got a job and the first reply was "but do that bussy squirt tho?", so, yeah. I should have led with the job thing. Sorry. I got a gig at YkDonald's, which is pretty good considering the closest thing I've had to a job is when I scheduled my crying to always happen at 3:15 p.m.. I called it self-care, mom called it grounds for adoption. 

I hate writing so goddamn much. Carrie liked it, though. Told me to keep a journal of whatever random stuff happens. I can never get my hands to work right, though. Always gets my fingers smudgy, and then I have to clean them off, and then mom makes me clean my room again, even though hers is always fucking disgusting. Sorry for the tangent. I'm not great at this.

Yeah, the job, let's start there, right? That's how this works. This girl I met on ONISM told me about them hiring, which is pretty weird, since the restaurant's in Frankton, and neither of us live there. She was going on about how it's "destiny" and "my parallel self works there" and all this garbage. I didn't understand a word she was saying, but figured it'd be good to get my mind off things. That was a fuckin' mistake. My mind's been on fire since 8 in the morning.

So I show up to this place on time, and it's already on the verge of collapse. First thing I saw was one employee threatening another with a knife, if that tells you anything. Lady in a black shirt comes up to me and has the audacity to tell me that's "normal for him". Why hire the dude? Chondra, black shirt lady, gave me my uniform and taught me how to use the fryer and work the register and whatever. I'll skip that. No need for an instruction manual of stuff I already know how to do. 

Serial killer guy and I are partners forever now, because I "wouldn't want to know what happened to his last one". So that's terrifying. He seems chill, though. Name's Michael, big photo buff. Conspiracy nutjob, but so's mom, so whatever. Conversations with him go something like this:

"Yo, we need a number 9 and a Coke."
"Goth girl?"
"Yeah?"
"She always gets Mountain Dew."
"Not today, man."
"They're converging, Rory... they're mixing up again."
"Okay?"
"Her eyes are different, too..." And then Michael gets all squinty, like he's trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle or something. Starts talking about parallel realities and stuff, like the ONISM girl. I ended up getting goth girl her food, because polishing a knife is apparently grounds to not do your damn job around here. 

I did get to talk to her a little bit, though. Her name's Vella, she's nice. Cryptic as all hell, like Michael, but at least she's not violent, so I guess that's a good thing? Says she got me the job, which I just laughed along with. Customer's always right, Chondra said, even if they're a complete schizo, which it seems every one of our customers is. At least she's not as bad as the Ice Ginger. 

Oh yeah, he exists. I should have started with IG. He's this, this guy. I don't know how else to describe him. He came in and it was like the whole staff audibly sighed. Michael was bothered. Michael! Guy who's fine with the black cubes of Saturn mind controlling government surveillance birds can't handle this dude! So he comes in and swaggers up to the counter like he owns the place, and I gotta take his order.

"I'll have the usual."
"I don't know what that is, sir."
"You know what it is."
"No, I really don't."
"Come on, stop playing, I come here every day."
"It's my first day."

At this point Chondra had had enough of watching me suffer, and gave me a soda cup. "Fill it with ice."
"Ice?"
"Guy loves ice. Just give it to him."

So I filled the cup with ice and gave it to the weirdo. He took it like he knew exactly what was coming, thanked me, and sat down. I could hear the crunching for two hours. How long does it take to eat a cup of ice? Doesn't it melt? 

Anyway, all that to say today sucked. Made a couple friends, but they're all deranged, so make of that what you will. Hope you have fun reading this, Carrie. See you soon.