Just Kidding, But Seriously...

Stick This Fry Up Your Speedo

The smell of dozens of people getting fat off their asses is probably the best smell in the world.

The moment you walk through the heavy door of a fast food joint, your nostrils are drowned in the scent of salty fries, greasy burgers, and sugar-sweet vanilla shakes. You could practically taste the juice seeping out of the meat on those burgers with just a simple lick of the lips. You could almost feel the tiny grains of fry salt undoubtedly peppered all over people's fingertips, which are probably moist from licking every last bit of flavor off them. Your mouth waters.

The air is thick with hot, deliciously smoky air as is radiates off the sizzling fryers, wafts through the narrowed slits of the swinging door that separates the kitchen from the customer's tables, and hangs over the heads of the people eating hungrily at their tables, effectively frizzing up their hair. Nobody cares because they're all having the most pleasurable eating experience of their life.

It's-dare I say-orgasmic.

I walked into Greasy Joe's that day just as I did every weekend and was greeted to this same intense, stomach-gurgling scene. With Raymond on my heels, I passed by the scratched, wobbly tables scattered throughout the restaurant and made my way to the long strip of table with three cashiers where people ordered and paid. The sounds of cold drinks getting slurped down to the last drop, lettuce being chomped down between teeth, wrappers being crunched, chairs being scraped and a wave of animated chatter riding above it all sounded both familiar and welcoming.

"Hey, Susan," I heard Raymond greet the lion-haired cashier woman warmly.

She looked up from the book she was reading and glanced between the two of us with beady eyes.

"Hey, boys." She smiled, exposing a set of crooked bottom teeth. "What'll it be?"

See, now that was a bit cruel. Her taunting words made my stomach tighten with another rumble of hunger.

I was so upset I wanted to punch a hamster.

Maybe if I had some extra time-maybe if I hadn't overslept again, only to be awakened by the sound of Raymond honking the car horn outside my house as if he owned the God damn place-maybe then I would have ordered the Triple Deluxe Cheeseburger with triple the bacon, triple the cheese and triple the pleasure.

But this couldn't be so, because in order for me to buy that burger I needed money.

And the only way I could have earned that money was with a job.

I stood beside Raymond, wistfully eyeballing the mounted menu as Susan laughed at her cruel joke and added, "Raymond, boss wants you to handle the drive-through window today. Derek... you know where the suit is."

With an internal groan, I glanced up at Raymond's tall, lanky form, which was about a head higher than I was. I immediately caught a smirk playing on his ugly face at the mention of "the suit."

Forget about punching hamsters, I was half a second away from socking this dude in the face.

"Have fun out there," Raymond taunted, jerking his chin in the direction of the front door. "Make sure you show off that juicy thigh of yours."

"It's a drumstick," I retorted. I roughly bumped him with my shoulder. "You asshole."

Raymond laughed and eventually I chimed in, except mine was a bit more half-hearted than his.

"Boys, enough of this brotherly business," Susan scolded as she finished giving change to a customer. "Let's get to work, eh? Your shift's already started."

Raymond and I gave each other looks and head-nods that I think was our way of saying, "Let's go get shit done," before heading off to our posts.

I still hadn't told him about that mind-blowing moment with Gwen.