Post by Deleted on Oct 18, 2015 23:46:46 GMT
The scene opens to a McDonald's fast food restaurant. To be more precise, the scene opens inside the McDonald's fast food restaurant, which is filled to the brim with customers. As usual, this McDonald's (just like the rest in the world) is jam-packed with people. Loud children are screaming and laughing as they run around, creating havoc and a sickening trail of messes behind them. Tables are dirty and unkempt as one lone teenager in the McDonald's uniform is seen trying to clean up after them.
But this is where things change. Now, the STORE MANAGER steps out and makes his appearance. He is a tall man, wearing a crisp McDonald's Manager uniform, the light blue shirt with the navy slacks and quite the air of superiority about him .Except that the superior air he had about him vanishes as soon as you see his face. His face is quite jarring and almost starting to behold, because it appears as if this man has had some kind of serious accident. His forehead is sloping down and there are massive amounts of chest hair protruding from the buttons on his shirt. In addition, his teeth look as if they were individually chipped to appear like a mouthful of incisors. All in all, this guy looks like a gorilla with bad teeth.
Resting on his shirt is a name tag pinned carefully above the Golden Arched logo sewn onto the shirt. The nametag has the name Theodore Tuf Toasten embossed and engraved on the front. He now smiles at the teenager and slaps the boy on the back.
Toast: Great job, Timmy. Why, you're a true model of the perfect McDonald's employee! You come in on time, you do your job and you make everyone else around you a little happier... just like me!
Timmy smiles and nods his head.
Timmy: Thanks Mr. Toasten.
Toast shakes a finger at the young man.
Toast: Remember Timmy, everyone here calls me Toast. It's a nice way to keep me humble.
Timmy: Oh.. yessir Mr. Toast... Toast, sir.
Toast: Run along now, Timmy. I want to have this place spotless by the time we close the lobby. I have somewhere important to be tonight.
As Timmy doubles his efforts with wiping down the tables, he turns and speaks to his manager again.
Timmy: Are you going to do your 'rasslin again, Mr. Toast?
Toast nods his head and then taps the side of his temple.
Toast: You always were the smart one, Timmy. I'm definitely going to be doing some more of that wrestling thing. It's a nice way to make a little more money when things get tight, especially around this time of year. I always need extra money when I hit the beach!
Timmy: You mean you don't make enough here?
Toast chuckles to himself as he looks around, making sure that the franchise owner isn't anywhere around. He isn't, so Toast speaks freely.
Toast: Well, to let you in on a little secret, Timmy, I do fairly well. But I'm not even hitting middle class territory working here. They pay me enough, but not enough to feel comfortable. Plus, I just love wrestling. It's fun, I get to meet new people and some of the ladies at those events... y'know... they're pretty hot.
Toast winks to no one in particular as he now does a small, tiny dance where he stands. Why? Beats the hell outta me. Not missing a beat, Timmy continues on.
Timmy: So who are you facin', Mr. Toast?
Toast: Ah, now that's an interesting question, Timmy. I'll be in a match with this guy named Mascara Del Baile. He looks pretty intimidating, if you ask me.
Timmy now stops wiping down the tables and turns to Toast.
Timmy: I've seen that guy before!
Toast nods his head and replies back to Timmy.
Toast: He was a guy with a great life ahead of him as a janitor. But I hear that his boyfriend fell very ill. Apparently, instead of keeping his job as a janitor, he quit caring about his looks, put on a mask, and did a few unsanitary things for money. I hear he eventually started in some lucha stuff elsewhere and that sort of thing before landing in the Chicken Fed.
Timmy: Cool!
Toast: No Timmy, not cool... not cool at all. Mascara should have just quit his job and gotten on welfare, then his boyfriend would have had free health care. That's why Mascara is an idiot, Timmy. He refused to do whatever it took, so now, his boyfriend is dead.
To say that Timmy looked shocked would be an understatement.
Timmy: He's dead?!
Toast nods back solemnly.
Toast: Well, that's what I heard. He died because Mascara just as bad of a boyfriend as he was a janitor. He also didn't bathe apparently and no one wanted to work with him.
Timmy: Wow!
Toast: Wow indeed. Now... back to work Timmy. I want this place spic-and-span in an hour. I have places to go!
Timmy: Yessir, Mr. Toast!
Timmy now turns his attention back to the tables and begins to furiously scrub them with the towel as Toast now turns and strolls through the lobby as the scene fades out to black.
But this is where things change. Now, the STORE MANAGER steps out and makes his appearance. He is a tall man, wearing a crisp McDonald's Manager uniform, the light blue shirt with the navy slacks and quite the air of superiority about him .Except that the superior air he had about him vanishes as soon as you see his face. His face is quite jarring and almost starting to behold, because it appears as if this man has had some kind of serious accident. His forehead is sloping down and there are massive amounts of chest hair protruding from the buttons on his shirt. In addition, his teeth look as if they were individually chipped to appear like a mouthful of incisors. All in all, this guy looks like a gorilla with bad teeth.
Resting on his shirt is a name tag pinned carefully above the Golden Arched logo sewn onto the shirt. The nametag has the name Theodore Tuf Toasten embossed and engraved on the front. He now smiles at the teenager and slaps the boy on the back.
Toast: Great job, Timmy. Why, you're a true model of the perfect McDonald's employee! You come in on time, you do your job and you make everyone else around you a little happier... just like me!
Timmy smiles and nods his head.
Timmy: Thanks Mr. Toasten.
Toast shakes a finger at the young man.
Toast: Remember Timmy, everyone here calls me Toast. It's a nice way to keep me humble.
Timmy: Oh.. yessir Mr. Toast... Toast, sir.
Toast: Run along now, Timmy. I want to have this place spotless by the time we close the lobby. I have somewhere important to be tonight.
As Timmy doubles his efforts with wiping down the tables, he turns and speaks to his manager again.
Timmy: Are you going to do your 'rasslin again, Mr. Toast?
Toast nods his head and then taps the side of his temple.
Toast: You always were the smart one, Timmy. I'm definitely going to be doing some more of that wrestling thing. It's a nice way to make a little more money when things get tight, especially around this time of year. I always need extra money when I hit the beach!
Timmy: You mean you don't make enough here?
Toast chuckles to himself as he looks around, making sure that the franchise owner isn't anywhere around. He isn't, so Toast speaks freely.
Toast: Well, to let you in on a little secret, Timmy, I do fairly well. But I'm not even hitting middle class territory working here. They pay me enough, but not enough to feel comfortable. Plus, I just love wrestling. It's fun, I get to meet new people and some of the ladies at those events... y'know... they're pretty hot.
Toast winks to no one in particular as he now does a small, tiny dance where he stands. Why? Beats the hell outta me. Not missing a beat, Timmy continues on.
Timmy: So who are you facin', Mr. Toast?
Toast: Ah, now that's an interesting question, Timmy. I'll be in a match with this guy named Mascara Del Baile. He looks pretty intimidating, if you ask me.
Timmy now stops wiping down the tables and turns to Toast.
Timmy: I've seen that guy before!
Toast nods his head and replies back to Timmy.
Toast: He was a guy with a great life ahead of him as a janitor. But I hear that his boyfriend fell very ill. Apparently, instead of keeping his job as a janitor, he quit caring about his looks, put on a mask, and did a few unsanitary things for money. I hear he eventually started in some lucha stuff elsewhere and that sort of thing before landing in the Chicken Fed.
Timmy: Cool!
Toast: No Timmy, not cool... not cool at all. Mascara should have just quit his job and gotten on welfare, then his boyfriend would have had free health care. That's why Mascara is an idiot, Timmy. He refused to do whatever it took, so now, his boyfriend is dead.
To say that Timmy looked shocked would be an understatement.
Timmy: He's dead?!
Toast nods back solemnly.
Toast: Well, that's what I heard. He died because Mascara just as bad of a boyfriend as he was a janitor. He also didn't bathe apparently and no one wanted to work with him.
Timmy: Wow!
Toast: Wow indeed. Now... back to work Timmy. I want this place spic-and-span in an hour. I have places to go!
Timmy: Yessir, Mr. Toast!
Timmy now turns his attention back to the tables and begins to furiously scrub them with the towel as Toast now turns and strolls through the lobby as the scene fades out to black.