Precious Condiments
“This is a public service announcement, from the Heart and Health Association of America. If you, or someone you know, is employed in the fast-food services industry please listen closely. When completing an order, it is of the utmost importance that you remember the condiments. Citizens left without condiments can be irrational, left with little options, causing them to have to return to the checkout line, or search in vain for condiments on the floor, or attempt to enter the restaurant. The following events are all true, only the names and places have been changed.”
On a trip to Flo Rida, on Interstate 995 South, loving husband and wife, Bill, and Nance, are starting to get hungry. Nance says, “Bill I’m starting to get hungry.” Bill suggests, “Why don’t we stop at Taco Shell?” Nance bemoans, “Bill you know that gives you the runs.” Bill responds, “Don’t worry honey, that’s what the bucket in the back is for.” Nance happily responds, “Okay honey, but only if you leave some room in the bucket for me.”
Apon leaving the interstate, and finding the closest Taco Shell, Bill and Nance are at the ordering intercom in the drive-through. A robotic voice booms “Welcome to Taco Shell, where our food is your living hell, what would you like.” Bill needs no time to contemplate, he has been ordering the same thing for years. “I will have a Number 666 with mild and hot sauce. Thank you. What do you want honey?” Nance is struck like a deer in the headlights unable to decide. Anger rises in Bill’s throat. How can she not know what she wants? Their menu has not changed in thirty years. Nance spastically replies, “I’ll have the same!”
When they reach the window, and receive their order, Nance says, “Bill you better check the bag before we drive away.” Bill responds, “Don’t worry. These people are professionals. They would never mess up an order.” He Hands the bag to Nance as he drives away. Bill lovingly looks at Nance as she opens the bag to get out their food and sees all the color drain from her face. He knows the words before they leave her mouth, but his heart starts to palpitate when he hears them. “They forgot the hot sauce.”
His mind races as he tries to think of a way to rectify this unthinkable predicament. Maybe he can go back through the line at the drive-through? No, it is too long now. He pulls over the car and franticly searches the floor for any old discarded hot sauce packets. Nance joins him and with her pocketknife starts cutting the seats, hoping that the manufacturer may have dropped some while assembling the car, but none are to be found. Bill will have to go inside the restaurant. His wife told him to check the bag. Why hadn’t he? She will probably hold this against him for the rest of his life. Little did he know she would.
Having left the car, and walking toward the restaurant doors, a creeping feeling started to travel up Bill’s spine. Was the inside open to customers? It had been closed since the Corona virus. Surely, they would accommodate him if that was the case. His left shoulder started to hurt as he knocked on the door. The employee behind the counter yelled, “Can’t come in” and waved his finger, like Sonic the Hedgehog. He slowly turned away from the door in terror, as his legs began to feel weak. His heart was beating out of his chest, until it was not. He grabbed his chest and fell face first to the ground. Remembering his childhood sled, a single word slipped from his bluing lips as he expired, “Rosebud.”
“As you can see from this public service announcement, it is the duty of all Americans to remain watchful. If you are a drive-through employee and neglect to include precious condiments, you are not only putting your life at risk, but the life of all Americans. Good night, good luck, and may God have mercy on your souls.”