We're Loving It

I've been sifting through the usual static and stumbled on something that doesn't belong-a low, droning hum that's less like a transmission and more like a tape loop stuck on repeat. A few words, a faint clang, the hiss of a deep fryer. Normally, I'd ignore it. But there's a distinct undercurrent beneath the neon façade-a bright jingle playing over fluorescent lights and a strange hush the moment someone unexpected shows up.

It's a roadside restaurant, new and gleaming, yet somehow haunted by cheap plastic arches and a manager who watches the door more than he serves customers. A father's camcorder keeps rolling, capturing a place too perfect to trust. And when a grinning figure steps through the entrance-clad in red, yellow, and white-the entire place goes quiet in a way that suggests we aren't just dealing with greasy burgers and a kids' play area.

This is the fragment I managed to piece together. Lean closer and listen. Perhaps you'll sense what's lurking behind the plastic décor and polite smiles-because something tells me the real show is only just beginning.