A Frosty and Some Fries

If you leave fries on your plate you are a horrible person. The little scraps of lettuce in the bottom of a SubWay wrapper? That's not a damnable offense. A pickle left on your plate. Worse, the people who leave entire portions of their meal on the plate and then throw it away as if they didn't just trash a perfectly good sandwich? You bought the meal, eat it! To make it worse, society thinks it's unacceptable for people who actually want the food to eat what you just left as trash.

Last week I was at Wendy's just trying to enjoy my fries and frosty when the girl in the next booth, who wanted to look hot but was really making everyone else in the restaurant barf, gets up and just leaves. Flat out picks up her little over-sparkled makeup bag and struts toward the nearest glowing red "EXIT" sign. Well, that took her straight past me. Me and my frosty fries. Her with her Big Bacon Cheddar Cheeseburger and half a box of fresh and piping nuggies. Well, as this chick slides by I humbly petition,

"Hey, are you going home?"

"Why?"

"I was just wondering if you were going to eat that."

"I'm going to eat you."

Then—the audacity—she makes a bee-line back to her booth, opens the top of that delicious conglomerate of cheesy bacon goodness and spits, smearing the top bun back on. Like that's going to stop me. With a flip of her despicably groomed hair, she swivels without even another word to me and stalks out the far door. As if I'm the disgusting one!

Well, my one on one date with a pocket of piping hot fries and chilled sugar-milk lost most of its savor at this unpalatable interaction, but I was somewhat consoled by collecting the mistreated remains of her undeserving sandwich. Soon I recovered from the sight of such a low human being and thoroughly enjoyed the luscious warmth of each juicy nug and my now-topless burger. And all at the price of a frosty and some fries.