Something Random to Satisfy You With

Chapter 5: This is Why You Should Never Let a Woman Do a Man's Job

“Charlie?” Alan beckoned.

“What is it this time?” Charlie demanded, awaking from a long and unnecessary nap.

“This book is boring.” Alan complained.

“What! Outrageous! How dare you whine about the F.A.D Instruction Manual being boring! I’ll have you know I had to study this book twice in order to pass an initiation test, not like nowadays where you can become a member just by asking permission! I try to read this book once a year and you say it’s boring?!! What is it with kids these days, with their stupid download stores, and their stupid videogames, and their stupid computers, and their stupid rap music, and their stupid incessant need to pirate quality thingies, and their stupid Apple players, and their...” Charlie grumbled.

“Charlie!!” Alan shouted.

“What?” Charlie challenged.

“Some teenagers cut in line in front of us while you were making your speech on how stupid this generation is!” Alan told him.

“NOOOOOOO!!!” Charlie screamed, and banged his head on the horn for the next few minutes. So while we leave these two gentlemen in frustration and anger at their stupidity and forgetfulness, let us flip on the other side of the card.

Mr. Strong had to be the most feared Tastes Like Chicken manager in Alberta, and second in the world, next to that guy in Sweden. He was a tall, morbidly obese, bald, black man who was always wearing a white suit with a pink tie, even when he was gardening. He had piercing eyes, and almost never smiled. He always knew what was happening in his restaurant, so that whenever something happened, he was on the scene. What made him so scary was that he showed no emotion when dealing with the customer. Sort of like when he would find a girl standing at an empty table eating a container full of leftover French fries, and then he would grab the container from her and stomp on it with his foot. Unless it was one of his, then he would sell it to her for profit and then stomp on it. Then he would have to clean the mess up and give the girl a coupon to make sure she came back again.

It was his sense of power and authority that kept him in the position at M.O.C he was in today. He was a man who was proud of the work he had lived his life on, by providing the best security of intelligence that he ensured to protect.

Some Office of a Third-Party Tabloid Newspaper, London, England

“Hey chief, I just got something here from our mobile phone hackers. Apparently a small town in Canada somewhere has been rigging its elections for the past 90 years in a corrupt system involving two well-known corporations. What should we do with this piece? You want me to put it on the backburner for now? Well, I guess if we’re going to have to ruin Cheryl’s life, we’re going to have to do it with full force. If you say so sir.”

Now Mr. Strong had a mission to carry out: Get the key. But of course he had to be on the scene of everything in his restaurant, so he couldn’t go. He thought about sending a new recruit who held a lot of promise, one of his cashiers. She had been recruited about six months ago, and had shown strong initiative. He wasn’t exactly sure what the key was for, since he threw out his copy of the M.O.C Instructional Manual back in ’96, which eventually ended up in a landfill in Texas, where a nosy gold digger would find the manual, discover the secret of M.O.C, unravel the conspiracy, and not care. All he knew about the key from rumours was that it was important, it had something to do with F.A.D, and it was shiny, and shiny is always good.

Hershey Deutensil was the cashier who worked the 11AM-8PM shift at the local Tastes Like Chicken. She was moderately sized, thin but could never get fat, had blonde hair that was almost curly, and wide eyes with the same type of smile. She looked like someone famous, but then again, it wasn’t noticeable, so it doesn’t really matter.